


Feels Too Close

by mollswinchester



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Erica, Alive Laura Hale, Alive Vernon Boyd, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Derek Hale, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, F/M, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Friends to Lovers, Hale Family Feels, Hurt Stiles, Infidelity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nurse Derek Hale, POV Derek, POV Stiles, Past Relationship(s), Rebuilding the Hale House, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Stiles With Dogs, though they don't know it, use of Greek Demigods as a way to deal with feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-04-13 13:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14113233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollswinchester/pseuds/mollswinchester
Summary: When Stiles Stilinski became a federal agent, everything changed. He spent years working hard on dangerous field operations, sacrificing relationships and his own morality—and all for what?Now he’s moving back to Beacon Hills, officially fed up with being a Fed. But things back home are not how he left them. He's happy to be surrounded by friends and family again, but none of that seems to matter when feelings for a man he used to love begin to resurface--feelings that may or may not be reciprocated.





	1. Chapter 1

As Stiles sits in the passenger seat of his own car, he tries not to think about what has or hasn’t changed in Beacon Hills. His dad keeps glancing over at him, apparently worried, so Stiles pretends not to see that either. 

A mere two weeks ago, Stiles had been the one member on his team that had been injured on what was meant to be a routine drug bust because, as he’s been told time and time again, he has a habit of throwing himself in front of people who are in imminent danger regardless of the risk. As it turned out, the dealers they were after were part of a much bigger scheme--not only were they smuggling drugs into the country, but illegal firearms and explosives as well. Stiles wishes they had known this prior to the explosion sounding in the warehouse. 

Stiles walked out of the building with shrapnel damage to his shoulder and some ugly markings on his face, as well as a bullet lodged in his knee, and something darker than he's ever felt in his head. He's glad the worst of the wounds was on the back of his shoulder. He doesn't react well to blood, and Stiles has seen pictures of what shrapnel in someone's flesh could look like. He's sure he would have fainted had he seen it. It had been an easy choice, really, deciding to retire and return to Beacon Hills. He might only be 28 years old, but his time with the FBI has run its course. 

His dad had been thrilled when Stiles had called and asked if there was a deputy position available for him at the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department. He hadn’t even hesitated when Stiles had told him there wasn’t even a slight chance that he’d be able to do anything other than desk work for at least a month, maybe more. John had hopped on a plane to DC and helped Stiles pack up his apartment and load all of his belongings into a uHaul trailer that they hooked to the back of Stiles’s environmentally friendly car. On the drive back to California, Stiles searched for apartments on his phone as his dad drove. 

The sheriff hadn’t been happy when Stiles had found a move-in ready apartment for himself on craigslist, claiming he wouldn’t be able to keep a proper eye on him. But Stiles argued that it would be fine, that he was a mature adult who paid bills and had insurance and bought groceries once a week. He does relent and stay the first few nights in his dad’s house back in his old bedroom, though. 

The next day, Stiles’s father drives him over to the apartment complex, because he has been strictly ordered not to drive by his surgeon and general doctor. He signs a few papers given to him by a more-than-sketchy landlord and calls Scott while his dad tries to organize some of his things. Normally, Stiles wouldn’t let John strain himself, but he has so much on his mind that he’s not thinking straight. He did, after all, quit his job and move across the country within a couple of weeks. Not to mention the amount of trials and investigations he had to undergo before that. 

“Stiles, hey man,” Scott says when he picks up the phone. 

“Hey, Scott.” Stiles thinks for a minute on what words to choose next. He hasn’t told anyone about his move or anything that has happened these past few weeks. “So, uh, I have some news for you.”

“Dude, did you get a girl pregnant?”

“What? No! Why would-- Why is that the first thing you assume?”

“I never know with you, Stiles.”

“Well I can assure you, there is no one out there carrying a child I helped create,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. Of course that would be Scott’s first assumption. 

“Then what?”

“I’m back in Beacon Hills.”

“Really? For how long? How come you haven’t told me? Kira! Stiles is in town!” Again, Stiles rolls his eyes. He listens to Kira and Scott’s muffled voices on the other end of the line before Scott apologizes and tells him to continue. 

“I’m back for good. Got an apartment, got a job down at the station with my dad--”

“Dude, what the hell?”

“What?”

“How long have you been planning on moving back?”

“About two weeks.”

“Two weeks? Stiles.”

“I’ll explain everything, okay? You wanna come help me unpack my stuff?”

Scott sighs dramatically over the other end and is quiet for another moment. “Sure. Text me your address, I’ll be there soon.” Stiles hangs up after that and texts Scott his address after looking it up in the papers Gary, the landlord, gave him. He’ll admit his decisions have been a little rash lately, but he currently has the money to make such decisions. Stiles hadn’t even known that special agents make triple digits before he entered the bureau. 

“Stiles?”

“What’s up, pops?”

“I’m going to go get you some food from the grocery store so you don’t starve.”

“Dad--”

“You can’t go on your own, so I’m doing it for you. Tell Scott that he and I are going to do the heavy lifting when I get back. And I’m taking your car.” Without another word, John is out the door. Stiles smiles softly, staring at the closed door for a moment or two before getting up off the kitchen chair he was sitting in and looking around. 

The apartment isn’t horrible. It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a smaller kitchen than what Stiles would have liked but a completely furnished kitchen which is nice. It would have sucked if he had to buy a new refrigerator. His dad had enlisted in the help of an innocent passerby to help bring up the TV, which is currently sitting on Stiles’s living room floor. 

Stiles feels more than a little guilty about having his dad do so much for him in the past week, but it’s not like he could have done anything on his own even if he’d wanted to. He’s not permitted to lift more than five pounds with his left arm and can’t walk without his crutch. One crutch for his right side because he can’t put his weight on his right side. Not to mention he’s still on pain meds, which make him a little more drowsy. His appearance has seen better, too. Most of his scratches and bruises have faded by now, but there’s a mark above his right eyebrow that leads up to his hairline that very prominently shows the scar that has yet to fade from the piece of shrapnel that lodged itself in his face. If it had been just half an inch lower, Stiles would have lost his right eye. He got the stitches out a few days before he and his dad began their road trip.

There’s a knock at the door that distracts Stiles from his thoughts. He hops over to the door with his crutch and braces himself to see Scott for the first time in a few months. When he swings the door open, Scott’s face goes from smiling to almost in tears in a split second. 

“What the hell happened to you?” he asks, storming in past Stiles. 

When Stiles turns around, Scott is standing with his hands on his hips, looking like a mother angry at her kid for coming in past curfew. 

“Shot in the leg and collateral damage in an explosion. I’ll be back to normal in a month or two.”

“Is this why you decided to come back?”

Stiles looks down at his hands at the question. He closes the front door and walks to the kitchen table where he sits down in one of the chairs, Scott doing the same across from him.

“Partially. I mean mostly. I just don’t think there’s anything left for me over there. I thought it’s what I wanted, and I loved it for a long time, but I haven’t felt excited about work for a while. I guess this,” he gestures up and down at himself, “was just the final straw.” There’s more, Stiles knows, to the story. He never thought the work would be as gruesome and painful on his psych as it has been. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re back, but don’t you think you maybe made this decision too fast? I mean, isn’t there anything over there you’ll miss?”

“Scott, trust me, the politics of Washington D.C. are not something I will ever miss. It’s a mess over there. I had friends, sure, but I don’t care about any of them like I do with everyone here. You’re here and I can fulfill my duties as godfather to baby Charlie much better.”

“Stiles, Charlie is six months old. She literally tries to eat every single gift you send her in the mail.” Stiles grins at that. On top of how proud he is that Scott and Kira named him Godfather, Charlie is the most adorable child he has ever seen in his entire life. So much so, that Stiles worries any children he has in the future won’t measure up.

“Well that’s the kind of thing I’d know if I lived here. Besides, everyone I really love is here. My dad, you and Kira and your mom, Malia, hell, I’ve even missed Liam. Lydia and I skype at least once a week, and she visits Beacon Hills more than she ever did DC.” Stiles makes a point not to mention a certain bushy-eyebrowed, grumpy man’s name because as far as Stiles is concerned, he is content living the rest of his days in Beacon Hills without crossing paths with Derek Hale. Granted, that’s not likely and yes, Stiles has resolved to accepting the fact that he’s never going to get over the man. 

Their breakup had been painful but mutual. Stiles knows that he doesn’t resent Derek and Derek doesn’t resent him. However, he is under no illusion that Derek hasn’t moved on or that there’s a chance to resolve things. It would be better for Stiles to just avoid the man all together so as to not get a taste of what it is he gave up. 

“About Liam,” Scott says. 

“Yeah? What about him?”

“Well, you remember Theo, right?”

“Scott.”

“They’re together.”

“Ohmygod,” Stiles says, covering his eyes with his hands. “I’m gone for five years and the place goes to shit. Theo? Really?” Scott replies by laughing and Stiles glares at him. He’s afraid to ask what else is new. 

\---

Two days later, Stiles groans as he forces himself up off the couch when someone knocks on the door. He has no idea who it would be, given both his dad and Scott are working and Malia came by yesterday. Liam certainly wouldn’t come by since Stiles left him a very angry voicemail about how ashamed he is of Liam choosing Theo Raeken, of all people. 

When he opens the door, he’s surprised to see Erica in front of him, holding up a gift basket. “Rumor has it you’re back in town,” she says, entering his apartment before Stiles has the chance to say anything. She sets the basket down on his kitchen counter and Stiles can see a variety of chocolates inside, which he can’t complain about. 

“Glad to see you haven’t developed manners since the last time I saw you,” he says. Erica’s smile just gets bigger and she throws her arms around Stiles. It’s awkward because he drops his crutch when he moves to wrap his arm around her, his other arm is in a sling, and he yelps when she pats him on the back right where it hurts. 

“Oh, right, you’re crippled for the time being. I’m going to excuse this absolute tragedy of an apartment because you obviously can’t do much. In fact, I might take it upon myself to decorate.” Stiles rolls his eyes. His apartment isn’t shabby. It’s bare and boring, but not a “tragedy”. But Erica is an interior designer now, so maybe he should trust her judgment. 

“Any reason you’re still here?” he asks. 

“Boyd told me you’re going to work as a deputy. That’s how he heard you’re back, your dad mentioned it. Anyways, we’d like to take you out to lunch.” Stiles looks at her skeptically. “Alright, Boyd told me to invite you to lunch or no sex for a week.”

“There it is,” he says with a smile, still digging through the basket on the table. “But as it so happens, I’m starving. I wouldn’t mind grabbing something to eat, even if the company sucks. You’re paying, I presume?”

“Don’t push it, Stilinski,” Erica says, but she’s smiling. Stiles shuts off the lights in his apartment and follows Erica out. She doesn’t hold the elevator for him, so he’s at least two minutes behind when he finds her car parked on the curb outside. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, attempting his best to get into the passenger seat without struggling too much, “if my bullet wound is an inconvenience.” He’s huffing heavy breaths when he fastens his seat belt. Erica just giggles and turns on the radio. 

“So where are we going?”

“Nowhere fancy, with you dressed like that.” Stiles looks down at his sweatpants and FBI t-shirt. He refuses to apologize for not putting jeans on when they cause him agonizing pain. “Speaking of your appearance, you sure buffed up. I’m impressed.”

“Gee, your compliments make me all warm and fuzzy inside.”

It’s not long before they’re parked outside of Tate’s Diner, Malia’s dad’s restaurant. If Stiles had to choose one thing he missed about Beacon Hills, it would be these burgers. Erica puts her car in park and, to Stiles’s surprise, helps him out of the car. It’s only when he sees Boyd watching from his cruiser a few cars down that he realizes why. 

“You look like shit,” Boyd says when he sees Stiles.

“And here I was expecting a warm welcome,” Stiles says but he hugs Boyd anyways. He hopes the mark in his forehead fades soon, because it seems that what everyone keeps noticing. Boyd tries not to be obvious about it, but Stiles can see him staring. 

“So, you wanna sit on patio or inside?”

“Patio,” Stiles says. There’s a nice breeze outside and he would really like to experience it. He’s been holed up in his apartment the past few days, he thinks he deserves it. They pick a seat near the entrance and a waitress takes their drink orders. Stiles is facing the street where he can see people driving past and Erica and Boyd sit across the table, facing him and the actual entrance to the building. 

“So you’re back for good?” Boyd asks. 

“Looks like it. You disappointed?”

“Not at all,” Boyd answers with a small smile. It’s then that the both of them stiffen. 

They look to each other, concerned, and then simultaneously back to Stiles with sheepish smiles. It’s creepy. 

“What?” he says, beginning to turn around when he hears an unmistakable voice from behind. 

“Hey, guys,” it says and Stiles looks back to Erica and Boyd with wide eyes. 

“Derek, hey,” Erica says. 

Derek Hale approaches their table, sets down a bag of takeout he’s obviously just picked up, and only seems to notice Stiles once he takes off his sunglasses. “Stiles?” he says. Stiles attempts to push himself up from the table but forgets momentarily that his arm is in a sling for a reason and curses at the pain that shoots through his left arm. 

“Shit,” he says. Derek reaches forward, as if he was going to help him up, but Stiles shoves his arm away and stands up on his own, using the strategy one of his nurses had showed him of putting all of his weight forward and pushing up with his right arm and left foot. “Hey,” he says once he’s at eye level with Derek. 

“I didn’t--didn’t know you were visiting,” Derek says. 

“Not visiting. I’m back for good,” he says. 

“Are you okay?”

“Oh this? This is just a scratch,” Stiles says, raising his injured arm. “You should have seen the other guys,” he adds, which doesn’t really make sense because the most of the dealers they were after had escaped when the bomb went off and the worst that happened to the few who were caught is bruised wrists from the handcuffs. And one guy who was shot in the shoulder, as per Stiles’s doing.

It looks like Derek is about to say something when a woman--a beautiful woman--exits the restaurant. When she spots Derek, she glides over to him and slides an arm around his waist. 

“Sorry, Henry wouldn’t stop talking,” she says. She then notices Stiles and glances at Derek. “Who’s this?”

It takes a moment for Derek to snap into reality, previously he’d been staring at Stiles. “Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles says, leaning his crutch on the table and reaching out to shake the woman’s hand. 

“Oh, Stiles? You’re Scott McCall’s best friend, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Stiles answers slowly. Does she not know him as anything other than Scott’s friend? 

“Jennifer, Stiles was a special agent with the FBI in DC, but he’s moving back now. Stiles, this is Jennifer. My girlfriend.”

Stiles plasters on a grin, ignoring the way his stomach drops to his feet at the word girlfriend. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you,” she says sweetly. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Kira,” she says. “We work together at the school. She says you’re Charlie’s godfather.”

“And she’s part of the reason I moved back,” Stiles admits. “Among other things.” Jennifer smiles. 

“Well we should go,” Derek says. 

“Right, we have a grease filled lunch to eat because someone didn’t feel like cooking,” Jennifer taunts, patting Derek on the chest before walking away. She turns the corner, presumably toward where their car is parked and ends up out of sight. 

“Derek,” Erica says, but Derek interrupts. 

“No. Don’t.” Stiles looks between the two, uncomfortable, noting Erica’s defeated sigh. “It was nice seeing you again, Stiles,” is the last thing he says before turning and walking away. 

“Stiles, I’m so sorry,” Erica says when he sits down. “If there’s anyone who’s going to make you regret coming back to Beacon Hills, it’s her.”

“You don’t like her?” Stiles asks. His hands are shaking and insides crumbling but his time with the FBI has taught him how to keep his nerves invisible to anyone but himself. 

“No. Hate her, actually, and Derek knows that. She’s controlling, rude to us and Laura, and a total bitch to Der--” Erica stops when Boyd rests his hand on her arm. “Right. You probably aren’t the best person to rant to about Derek’s girlfriend.”

“How long have they been together?”

“Two years, I think,” Erica answers. And yeah, that hurts, that this apparent “bitch” has been with Derek longer than Stiles ever was. 

“For the record,” Erica says, “I always thought you and Derek were perfect for each other.”

Stiles doesn’t have a chance to reply because the waitress comes back then with their drinks. The rest of lunch, all three of them actively steer away from any conversation remotely related to Derek and his girlfriend. Stiles doesn’t mind that that means they ask him a bunch of questions about his work, given that Erica and Boyd are Derek’s best friends and every interesting story the two of them have involve him. 

\---

Derek accepts that he has issues communicating. He’s better now, more open, yet for some reason, some absolute idiotic reason, Derek has failed to mention his relationship with Stiles to Jennifer once. He has a ring for her, for God’s sake, what the hell is wrong with him? Granted, he never thought it would be an issue, seeing as Stiles was so set on staying in the capital while Derek wanted to live in Beacon Hills the rest of his life. 

Maybe this is karma. Maybe this is the universe’s way of punishing Derek for doing something wrong, like throwing away those letters he gets in the mail every month prompting him to donate to charity. Derek has never been one to be dramatic. In fact, he often told Stiles off for being too dramatic. All he knows is there is someone out there wanting him in pain and boy, is he going to suffer. 

Jennifer is on her phone when Derek gets in the car. She tells him to put the food in the back so that she doesn’t have to hold it, so he does. “So Stiles,” she says, making Derek’s stomach clench. 

“What about him?”

“From what I’ve heard, I thought he’d be different. Everyone around here seems to be so hopelessly in love with him.” Derek laughs nervously at that and puts the car in reverse.

“He’s looks a lot different now,” Derek says truthfully. “He used to be kind of a twig. I guess one would have to buff up if they’re going to be working with the FBI.”

“Yeah, I guess. Did you see mark on his face? God, it was hard not to stare.” And Derek had seen the gash on his face. He’d seen his entire body, seen how broken Stiles looked. His left arm had been limp in his sling, face marked up with scratches, and one of his legs was injured, as made obvious by the crutch he was using. 

“Poor Stiles,” Derek says. 

“Poor Stiles? Derek, you barely know the guy. I’m sure he’s just fine.”

Derek nods but doesn’t answer. The kicker here is, he knows Stiles isn’t just fine. He knows because he saw the blank stare on the other man’s face and he saw how hard he was trying to hide the pain he was in. Derek knows Stiles better than he’s ever known anyone, including Jennifer. He knows Stiles is hurting.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek is about to take his first breath all day when Melissa approaches him and tells him that a patient in exam room 11 is waiting to have his stitches removed. He’s about to argue--about to claim that he’s only just gotten the chance to sit down after hours of being on his feet, tending to everyone’s needs, when she gives him her mom face. Derek has learned not to argue with Melissa McCall. 

So, he sighs and takes the file she shoved at him and walks toward room 11. When he enters, he santitizes his hands and then opens the folder to see the patient’s name. Mieczyslaw Stilinski. What the fuck?

When Derek looks up, he sees a mildly horrified Stiles sitting on the exam table, watching Derek nervously. “You always said your name was bizarre, but this is…”

“Child abuse?”

“I was going to say worse than I expected,” Derek says. He turns to set the file down on the counter while doing his best to gain some composure. Derek reaches into the cardboard box filled with latex gloves and grabs two for himself. “You’re not allergic to latex, right?”

“Nope,” Stiles says, popping the ‘p’.

“Okay, where are these stitches we’re taking out?”

“My knee,” Stiles says. 

“Can you show me?” Stiles looks at Derek skeptically. “Stiles, I can’t exactly remove them with your pants covering the wound, now can I?”

“Yeah, I figured, but here’s the problem: it kind of hurts, like a lot, and we both know I’m a little squeamish when it comes to this kind of thing. I mean, I don’t even look at my leg when I shower. Not to mention I’d have to take my pants off, which would be really awkward given our history,”

“Stiles--”

“Do you think you could sedate me?” Derek glares at him. “Okay, okay, fine,” he says, pushing himself off the table. Derek watches as Stiles puts his thumbs underneath his waistband. “A little privacy?” Stiles says and Derek rolls his eyes but turns around, nonetheless. 

When he turns back around, Derek decides not to make a big deal about it and pulls a stool up so that he can sit directly in front of Stiles who, for some reason, still looks bashful. It’s not like he’s not wearing underwear, there’s really nothing to be embarrassed about in Derek’s opinion. 

“So the wound is from…”

“A bullet. But I think most of the damage was done during the surgery to remove the bullet, actually. Not the surgeon’s fault, obviously, it was just in a difficult position.”

“Jesus, Stiles,” Derek says. “How’d it happen?”

“Well there was an explosion, which is how everything else that’s wrong with me at the moment happened. None of us could see and most of us had been hit with something and I happened to be close to one of the assholes who set the bomb. He was facing the other direction, though, and I saw he was aiming his gun at my partner, Collins. Collins was defenseless, and didn't know what to do, so I got the guy's attention. He saw that I had a gun and held his hands up.” Derek looks absolutely dumbfounded and Stiles wishes he could stop but words just keep spilling from his mouth. “But then one of his pals, I guess, wrestled me to the ground from behind and I tried to fight him back, but he was on top of me, and then his gun went off--on accident, I think, going through my knee. But that wasn't enough, so while he was still holding me down, he held the gun to my forehead. Obviously, I had to defend myself, so I snatched his gun and, well, shot him." Stiles leaves out the whole truth. His dad is the only person back here who knows everything. 

“I can’t believe you,” Derek says. He turns and grabs his tool tray while muttering, “too selfless for your own good.” It makes him laugh. He isn't anything close to selfless. 

“Is this going to hurt?”

“Barely.”

“How much is barely?” Stiles asks. When Derek looks up at him, he can see he’s working himself into a panic. 

“You survived an explosion and got shot in the knee from point blank range and you’re worried that getting your stitches out is going to hurt?”

“I was pumped up on adrenaline then. Now experiencing whatever the opposite of that is.”

“You’re going to make it worse if you don’t relax your muscles,” Derek says. 

“God, I’m going throw up,” Stiles says. 

“Stiles,” Derek says. “Look at me.” Stiles does as he’s told, wide eyes meeting Derek’s gaze. “I’m going to put some numbing cream on your knee, okay? You won’t feel a thing.” Derek wheels his stool over to the counter and fumbles through the drawers until he finds what he’s looking for. He goes back and sits in front of Stiles. 

“Can you bend your knee?”

“It hurts, but I can do it.”

“Okay, bend it as much as possible and put your foot on my thigh.” Stiles does as he’s told, wincing when the pain gets to be too much. 

“Good,” Derek says. He puts some of the cream on Stiles’s knee and begins rubbing it in with his finger. Derek tries not to think about how he could easily see up Stiles’s boxer shorts if he wanted to and that the only thing keeping them from touching is the green glove on Derek’s hand. “Okay, now I’m going to poke your knee in a few places and you tell me when you can’t feel it anymore.” Stiles nods as Derek starts poking the area he spread the cream until Stiles tells him he’s numb. 

“Good. Okay, don’t look at what I’m doing but tell me something,” Derek says as he goes to start clipping Stiles’s stitches. 

“Something like what?”

“I don’t know, what do you plan on doing now that you’re back?”

“I’m going to be a deputy,” Stiles says. “I have all the training needed, all I need to do is pass a few tests given by the station and I’ll be good to go. I’ll be working alongside Boyd and Parrish and my dad, which I’m excited about. My dad’s excited too, i think, because now he won’t be as worried that I’m going to get myself killed. It’s a valid concern--”

“Done.”

“Huh?”

“We’re done. Now I’m just going to sterilize the area and you’ll be good to go.”

“Damn, that was fast.” Derek just smiles and focuses on cleaning Stiles’s knee. When he finishes, he gets up walks over to the sink, back facing Stiles. “So it’s been a while,” Stiles says. 

Derek scoffs. “Five years. You never exactly made a point of seeing me whenever you visited.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” Derek doesn’t turn around to see Stiles. He doesn’t think he needs to.

“You don’t know what I wanted.”

“Derek?”

“What?” Derek feels himself getting irritable. He swipes the gloves off his hands throws them out. 

“Your girlfriend. She didn’t seem to know who I am.”

Derek is quiet for a while, listening to Stiles breathe as he tries to find the words he wants to say. “I think you should go,” he says in the end. The same words he had said all those years ago when Stiles was conflicted about staying with Derek or moving to D.C. 

“Derek, just--”

“Go, Stiles. Someone at the desk will get you checked out. Remember to wash your wound with soap and water twice a day and don’t put too much pressure on your knee. The stitches may be out but the internal tissue damage hasn’t healed yet.” Derek still doesn’t turn around, even when he hears Stiles curse as he hops off the table, probably hurting his knee. 

 

Xxx

“He didn’t even try to explain?” Scott asks. Stiles shakes his head. “Wow. And he told you to leave? Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“I can’t believe him. I mean, we’ve always known Derek was emotionally constipated, but who knew he would go as far as to not tell his serious girlfriend that about you?”

“I’m just as confused as you are, man,” says Stiles. 

Scott is pacing his living room and Stiles is dandling Charlie on his good knee. It’s kind of hard to hold her with just one arm, but Stiles isn’t going to put her down just because of a minor injury. 

“God, and she’s such a bitch, Jennifer is. Kira says she acts innocent and timid when really the only reason she hasn’t attacked someone that’s gotten on her nerves yet is because of Derek. He’s too good for her.”

“Scott--”

“I mean, everyone knows he’s just putting up with her because he wants a family and a picket fence. Well, maybe everyone except for him, but--”

“Scott!”

“Yeah?”

“Derek is a grown man. You shouldn’t be so invested in his love life.”

“Stiles, really? You’re really okay with seeing him with her? Let alone someone as awful as she is? And aren’t you in the least bit concerned about why he hasn’t mentioned you to her?”

Stiles sighs and motions for Scott to pick Charlie up off his lap. “Of course I don’t want him to be with someone if she doesn’t make him happy, but there’s no reason I have to believe that she doesn’t. Besides, Derek and I broke up a long time ago.”

“Yes but you two were in love. Let’s not forget what you told me on New Years, Stiles.”

“You promised not to mention it.”

“Well these are drastic measures,” Scott says. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I was drunk and upset after seeing all of my friends kiss their significant others. I didn’t mean it.”

Scott, Kira, Isaac, Allison, and Stiles had flown to New York to see Lydia and Jackson for a small New Year’s Eve party they were hosting. A few of Lydia and Jackson’s friends were there and Stiles was more than a little emotional about his best friends being happy and in love and making the most out of their relationships while he didn’t even have time for one night stands anymore. 

So, after everyone went to sleep, he and Scott sat at Lydia’s kitchen counter and talked until the sun rose. And Stiles might have cried, claiming to still be in love with Derek even after all these years. He told recounted every single thing he loved about Derek to an equally drunken but much less emotional Scott and as he fell asleep in the early hours of that morning, he hoped to himself that neither of them would remember the conversation when they woke up. But both of them did, and they swore never to speak of it again. 

And yeah, in the back of his mind, Stiles knows that the chance of him still loving Derek is relatively high but it’s something he’s been pretty content with ignoring for a long time. 

“Scott, I’m not here to ruin his relationship. That’s not why I came back.”

Scott sighs and sets his daughter down in her playpen before sitting next to Stiles on the couch. “I know buddy,” he says. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I have all of my friends back, I have my dad, and I don’t have to be as afraid for my life as I’m used to. Trust me, Scott, this move is a good thing.”

Xxx

“You haven’t told her?”

“No, Laura, that’s what I’m trying to explain to you right now!”

“Derek, I cannot believe you. You’re planning on proposing! How long do you plan on keeping him a secret?”

Derek groans and runs his hands down his face, sitting down across from his sister. “I don’t know. I don’t want to tell her if she’s going to react badly.”

“Derek, she’s going to be upset if you tell her now but who knows how mad she’ll be if she finds out from someone else.”

“You’re right.”

“I know.” Laura waves their waiter over and asks for the check. “So on a completely unrelated topic, did he look as good as his instagram pictures make him seem?”

“Can we not talk about Stiles?”

“I’m just curious, Der. Noah always says he’s gotten tougher and stronger and that he certainly looks the part. And Stiles was always pretty creative, I didn’t know if he was photoshopping his selfies.”

“Yes, Laura, he looks good.” 

Laura smiles victoriously at that and Derek snatches the check from the waiter when he gives it to them.

“No, let me pay--”

“Absolutely not,” Derek says. “It would only make you happy and you’re getting on my nerves.”

A few minutes later, the two siblings walk outside and conveniently run into Sheriff Stilinski who is carrying a tray full of coffees. 

“The whole point of having deputies is for them to bring you coffee, sheriff,” Laura says. The Sheriff glances up at them and smiles when he sees who it is. Derek had thought that Laura working so closely with Stiles’s dad would cause some sort of conflict of interest, but as far as he knows, there’s no bad blood. Of course, it probably helps that Laura is the best lawyer in town and the Sheriff kind of idolizes her for it. 

“Oh these?” the sheriff holds up the tray which contains three styrofoam cups. “These are for Stiles. I babied him the first few days he got back, which was a mistake, because now he’s milking it for all he’s got.” Derek snorts. It definitely seems like something Stiles would do. “Anyways, I got him three so I wouldn’t have to keep going back to his place on my breaks.”

“Is something wrong with him?” Laura asks. 

“He was hurt on duty. Arm’s in a sling, his face is all bruised and scraped up, he’s on crutches.”

“Oh, God. Well, it’s a good thing he’s alright.”

“Definitely.”

“You’re on duty now?” Laura asks, which Derek thinks is stupid because the sheriff is dressed in his uniform and was walking toward his cruiser before he stopped to talk to them. 

“Sure am.”

“Why don’t I take Stiles his coffee for you, then? I haven’t seen him since he came back. I’d be happy to have an excuse to visit.”

“Are you sure?” The Sheriff looks wearily to Derek and then back to Laura. 

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. Thanks. You’re doing me a huge favor.” He hands the tray over and spits out an address that Laura plugs into her phone before turning around to hop into his car. 

“Laura, you’re my ride,” Derek says, following his sister toward her car. 

“I know I am.”

“Will you drop me off before you go to Stiles’s?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Laura.”

“Come on, Der, I’m sure he’d love the company.”

“Yeah, not mine.”

“Why not?” Laura climbs into her car and Derek does the same and she’s handing him the drink tray while she pulls out of the parking spot. 

“I wasn’t exactly welcoming the last time is saw him. Besides, there’s the whole ‘failed relationship’ thing we went through.”

Laura rolls her eyes. She turns the radio on and ignores her brother’s protests the rest of the way to Stiles’s apartment building. “You can wait in the car, if you really don’t want to see him. I’ll leave my keys so you can keep the air going.”

Derek watches her close her door and walk up to the building before he realizes she left the coffees with him. Either she’s really smart or she’s a complete ditz, but either way, Derek takes the key out of the ignition and climbs out of the car, following his sister into the building. She’s waiting for him in the lobby with a smirk when he sees her. 

“Oh look, you decided to come. How nice of you.” 

Derek rolls his eyes but follows Laura to the elevator anyways. 

A few minutes later, they’re knocking on Stiles’s door and Derek is nervously bouncing from foot to foot. It takes a while, longer than what should be normal, for Stiles to come to the door. Derek feels bad, remembering that the guy is on crutches. 

When the wooden door swings open, Stiles’s face shows that he hadno idea they were coming. Derek had hoped that the Sheriff might have given him a heads up, at least. 

“Oh. Hi, guys,” Stiles says suspiciously, leaning on his crutch. 

“We ran into your dad,” Laura says. “He said these are for you and I offered to bring them to you so he could get back to work.” She holds the coffee up and Stiles nods, seemingly content with her explanation. 

“Great. Okay. Well, come on in.” Stiles hops out of the way of the door so Derek and Laura can enter the apartment. “You can set those down on the table in the kitchen.”

Laura nods and does as she’s told. Stiles closes the door behind Derek and it suddenly feels very awkward. 

“So Laura, how’ve you been?” Stiles asks. 

“Pretty grand,” she admits. “This is a nice place you have.”

“What I had in DC was way better. The building had a pool and security guards. Hot security guards.”

Laura snorts and Derek can’t help but cringe. “So why’d you come back then?” Stiles sits down at the kitchen table and motions for Laura to do the same. Derek follows and sits even though he wasn’t invited to do so. 

“Missed the people here. And, as you can see, I was going to be off my feet for a while. I’d have been doing desk work for months anyways, I figured it was the perfect time to leave.”

“Well we’re glad to have you back. Right Der?” 

Derek blinks and then after a moment realizes he’s supposed to say something. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Stiles smiles at him. “Hey, so I’ve been wondering,” he says. “Did you guys ever finish restoring the house?”

Derek drops his smile and he sees Laura cross her arms, shooting him a pointed glance. “No.”

“Why not? Everyone was so excited about it when I left.”

“Well, uh, Jen doesn’t think it’s practical to live out on the preserve,” Derek says. He knows it sounds bad when he repeats it, but it’s really not as bad as it seems. It made more sense to him when Jen explained it. Plus, Derek had always had Stiles in mind when he imagined raising a family with his partner in his old house. “I mean, the property is still mine to do what I want with. I just--”

“I get it. Owning a house is tough these days,” Stiles says. Derek nods even though that’s not quite what he meant when he said Jen found it impractical.

“I still think he should do it,” Laura says. “Even if he has to go behind her back.” Derek shoots his sister a glare. 

Stiles’s phone rings then and he angrily stares at where it’s buzzing on the table. 

“You going to answer that?” Derek asks. 

“No. They’ll call back.”

“Who is it?”

“The Bureau.”

Laura looks at Derek. “Isn’t it kind of important that you answer, then?”

“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know what they want. I turned my badge in, why would they need me?”

“Maybe you should answer it,” Laura suggests. Stiles groans and reaches out to his phone, clicking the button to ignore the call. 

“They’ll call back if it’s important.” When both Laura and Derek give him a blank stare, he rolls his eyes and sighs. “I think they want me to testify or something like that.” Stiles gets out of his seat and leans his back against the counter. “Do you know how much there is to deal with after something like-- I mean, they tell you not to take the job home, but when they won't let you forget it...”

Derek and Laura glance at each other. “It sounds like it was a tough profession,” Laura says. 

“You know,, it was fun in the beginning when I was on simple field ops but then i went up in ranking and got promoted and shit, the things you see.” Stiles looks up from where his line of sight was focused on the floor in front of him. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. I’m a few thousand miles away and I can’t forget about it. You know what? Forget I said anything. Thanks for bringing me the coffee, I really appreciate you lightening the load on my dad.” 

The Hale siblings take that as their cue to leave, so they get up and head to the door. “See you around, Stiles,” Derek says before they leave. 

As he follows Laura out of the building, he feels sorry for Stiles and feels sorry that he didn’t realize how much the other man must be struggling right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek is v moody and confused. Also, I feel like I should note, there's no infidelity on Derek’s part in le story. maybe I should put that in the notes for chapter one.


	3. Chapter 3

After the visit with Laura, Stiles doesn’t see Derek for a while. In fact, it’s over two weeks when he sees him next--just a few days after being sworn into the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department. He’s more than content with pretending he hadn’t embarrassed himself in front of the Hale siblings. 

It was a bad day, because his shoulder had been hurting badly, worse than it had in some times. He was happy with the company, even if he felt uncomfortable having Derek in his crappy apartment. And the fact that they let Stiles’s dad have a break from fussing over him was even better. But he couldn’t ignore the pain in his shoulder and in his mind. Stiles has a tendency to say things he doesn't want to say when he's upset for whatever reason. He almost said more than he wanted. It's like New Years with Scott, when Stiles revealed he might not be totally over Derek Hale.

He hobbles into the hospital next to Allison. It’s the last stop of their shift as well as nearing midnight. Stiles is off his crutch, walking only with an obvious limp, now. Still, he’s glad to have a free hand to carry things other than his crutch. 

Initially, Stiles had been worried about working with Allison due to hers and Scott’s past relationship, but they both assured him that everything is okay now between them--there’s no bad blood. Apparently, Allison is now dating Isaac, one of Derek’s good friends. 

“I’m not used to drunk drivers,” Stiles tells her as they walk through the ER. “I’m more familiar with serial killers and drug lords.” Allison snorts. 

“I’ll take the lead, then, until you get the hang of this.” Stiles nods and waits as Allison asks Melissa where Matt Daehler’s room is. As they walk in his direction, Allison says, “So he has a lot of priors, which means we don’t exactly have to be gentle. Feel free to jump in if you want, but I think it’s all pretty black and white here.”

Matt is sitting up in his hospital bed when they enter his room, fiddling with his cuffed arm. As much as Stiles misses the action of the FBI, he can’t complain about this. He should still be on desk duty, but his dad is giving him minor jobs instead of paperwork. Probably thanks to nepotism, but it’s all the same. 

 

They find out that Matt had been drinking at a club and decided to drive home. Luckily the only damage is to Matt’s lip, his car, and Mrs. Jenkins’s front yard garden. She’s not going to press charges for property damage, but Matt is going to have some reparations for being above the legal alcohol limit while driving. 

If his doctor didn’t want Matt to stay overnight just in case any signs of a concussion would show up, they’d bring him into the station to drop the DUI charges on him. Stiles isn’t upset to be able to leave, due to his exhaustion. This has been his first full shift and he can barely walk straight. And that has nothing to do with his injured leg. 

“I’m going to run to the ladies’ and then we can head back and clock out, okay?” Stiles nods at Allison and watches as she walks away. 

He turns and glances around the waiting room of the ER, spotting familiar faces here and there. When he sees a particularly tired looking nurse in green scrubs sitting in one of the chairs, Stiles can’t help himself. He fills a styrofoam cup full of coffee at the machine sitting in the hall for anyone who pleases and heads over to Derek. 

“You look tired,” Stiles says, sitting down next to the man and offering him the cup. Derek looks up from his phone when Stiles speaks and offers a soft smile. He accepts the coffee with a smile and takes a sip.

“I could say the same about you.”

“It’s my first full shift since I’ve been back. I know it’s only been over a month since I was on all these intense jobs but it feels like forever.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Derek takes a drink of the coffee again. “I don’t usually work the night shift, so this is rough for me.”

Stiles nods and is quiet for a moment or two. “Hey, I just wanted to...uh… clear the air. I mean, I know this is kind of weird since, well, we used to date, but I just want you to know I don’t want to mess things up for you and your girlfriend.”

Derek frowns. “I know you don’t, Stiles.”

“Erica told me that the two of you have been together for a long time, and I think that’s great. I want you to be happy. And I didn’t come here with the intention of getting you back or anything, no matter what Scott thinks. I really just missed home.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Stiles.”

“I know, it’s just… it’s a small town. I don’t want running into you to be weird. And I want to be sure I’m not giving anyone the wrong idea. I’ve been known to be impulsive so I know people are expecting me to try to win you back with roses and rocks at your window and whatever but I won’t. I just don’t want you to avoid me or something like that because you think I’m hung up on you. I’d rather we were able to make friendly conversation whenever we cross paths.”

“Hey, I know you’re not going to try to ruin things for me. It’s been years, we’ve both moved on. So yes, I’m completely okay with being able to chat whenever I see you Stiles. Don’t worry about it.”

Stiles doesn’t mention how he really hasn’t decided if he’s moved on or not. And he definitely doesn’t mention how, if Derek’s really moved on like he says, why does his girlfriend still not know about their past?

Xxx

Derek doesn’t appreciate coming home to a cold bed and lonely house. He always figured that when he got to this point with someone, the point where they had moved in together and split the utility bills, that it would be happy. That for as many times as he has dinner waiting when Jennifer comes back from work, she’d do the same for him. 

Sometimes he gets it--sometimes, he works too late and wouldn’t expect her to wake up. But there are also times he feels like the only one trying. He keeps telling himself that it’ll get better--that they’re both stressed and tired, now, and the distance won’t be there forever. 

He can’t talk to his friends, because to them, the solution is simple: break up with her. But Derek doesn’t want to break up with Jennifer. He loves her and he wants to spend his life with her. 

He’s felt more than a little out of it since Stiles came back, and even worse since the younger man told Derek over and over that he didn’t want to mess things up for him and Jen. For some reason, and Derek can’t figure out why, that conversation hasn’t been sitting well with him. He doesn’t know what he was expecting--for Stiles to sweep in and profess his love for Derek? No. Derek is in love with Jen--he wants to marry Jen. 

It takes a few minutes for him to find her. When he does, she’s curled up, asleep on the couch in the living room, book lying open on top of her chest. Derek puts a blanket over her and places the book on the coffee table, marking the page it was open to with a tissue so she won’t lose her place. 

Jen doesn’t stir and Derek pretends not to mind that he’s going back to his bedroom to sleep alone. He hopes she’ll wake up and come into their bedroom, cuddle up against his chest like they used to. In the end, he falls asleep with his cat, Hercules, lying at his feet. 

\---

When Derek wakes up the next morning, Jennifer is already gone for work. He has the day off, something that doesn’t happen often, and frankly, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He goes on a run but doesn’t get far--it’s not as easy as it used to be. He makes himself breakfast and finds that he’s missed cooking. 

Derek spends the remainder of the morning cleaning his and Jennifer’s already pristine house. He dusts places no one would ever even think to look, like behind the fridge and in the small closet under the stairs that is used as a broom closet. He organizes all of the cabinets, throws out the expired food, and unclogs the drain in the bathroom sink. It’s weird, how clean Jennifer is, compared to what a slob Stiles was. Derek hadn’t minded back then, when Stiles would leave a wet towel on the bathroom floor or wipe his buttery fingers on his pants when they ate popcorn while watching a movie. Thinking back on it, Derek probably would have grown to hate the small things Stiles did that never seemed to bother him before.

By the time he starts getting hungry again, it’s almost Jennifer’s lunch break. Derek figures it wouldn’t hurt to bring her something to eat for lunch like he used to when he had more days off. He decides on The Bistro for a sandwich. Jen loves the place. 

He gets in his car and drives into town, windows down so the breeze can cool him off. He doesn’t even feel weird about going into public in sweats and a t-shirt--usually, Jen isn’t very okay with that. She likes for the both of them to always look nice together. Derek doesn’t complain, he’s not one to care too much about his clothing choice, so when Jen wants him to change, he changes. 

The Bistro today is packed. Derek orders two sandwiches, one for him and one for Jen, and looks for a place to sit while he waits for his food to be brought out to him. The restaurant is crowded and there are no empty tables, but when Derek spots Stiles, he figures he might as well take advantage of the whole “being friendly with each other in public” conversation they had the other night. 

Stiles is on his phone when Derek approaches, scrolling aimlessly through a social media profile. “Mind if I sit while I wait for my food?” Derek asks. 

Stiles startles, because he’s Stiles and that’s what he does, but he smiles when he sees that it’s Derek. “Be my guest.”

“So are you on your lunch break?” Derek asks when he sits. Stiles sets his phone face-down and shakes his head. 

“My dad told me to go pick up sandwiches for everyone, and then once I got here, he told me that this was the only way he could think of to get me out of the station, and that I’m not supposed to go back until tomorrow.”

“Why not?”

“Well, technically, my doctor--and my therapist, actually--told me I should only be working half shifts at this point. Dad thinks I’m going to make things worse for myself.”

“So why are you so keen on working more than you’re supposed to?”

Stiles frowns. “It’s a distraction.” Derek figures there’s more to it than that, but he doesn’t press. It’s not his place to. 

“Well how does it feel to be back?”

“Honestly? It feels great. I didn’t have anyone on the east coast. Not like here, anyways.”

“Really? You didn’t make any good friends over there in all the time you were gone?”

“I mean, I had people I would get drinks with after work, but no one I could invite over just to hang out. And there were a few people I dated, none of which worked out. Although, Danny Mahealani visited and we had an eventful few weeks.” Derek cringes at that, but Stiles doesn’t notice.

“So Scott’s happy to have you back?”

“He better be. Hey, that reminds me. I took his daughter on a walk through the woods the other day. She’s my goddaughter, so I’ve been trying to spend more time with her lately. But we wandered through the preserve and… Maybe it was wrong of me, but I wanted to see what your old house looked like. It didn’t look like you had done anything new to it since I left. I know you said Jennifer doesn’t want to live there, but--”

“I wasn’t in the mood for renovation after you left, Stiles.” Derek feels a little bad for snapping, but Stiles doesn’t seem to be offended. 

“You promised me you would finish it, you know.”

“I did. But that was when it still didn’t feel real that you were leaving Beacon Hills.”

Stiles looks down at the soda he’s been drinking. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Stiles. Remember, we’re both over each other. We’re friends now.”

“Well fine, if you’re gonna be a dick about it,” Stiles jokes, smirk playing at his lips. Derek almost laughs at how much he sounds like the old Stiles right now. He doesn’t know what, but something changed Stiles. He’s different now, quieter--and it’s not just around Derek. It’s everywhere. Even Erica mentioned Stiles wasn’t as much of a snot to her as he was before he left. It could be that he matured, but it’s Stiles--he’s the most immature mature person Derek has ever known. 

He’s also different physically. Stiles’s hair is a lot longer and his face is filled out. He looks a lot stronger than he had before. He’s slim but his muscles are visible through his shirt. His arm is still in a sling, but he doesn’t look as broken and weak as he did when Derek saw him that day at Tate’s. 

A middle-aged man brings Derek his order of two sandwiches then. Derek thanks him and stares at the food. “Are you bringing one of those to your girlfriend?” Stiles asks. Derek closes his eyes and sighs. 

“Yeah, but I’ll eat mine first. I’ve got a little while before I have to leave to get to her in time for her lunch break.” Stiles looks unsure but doesn’t argue--just bites into his own sandwich. 

“So what has Cora been up to?” Stiles asks.

“She’s a missionary. She’s leading a bunch of youth group’s with her church on volunteer trips to different places. Right now, she’s building schools in South America.”

“Never pictured her as the church type.”

“Neither did I. I don’t think she ever did, either, until she realized that it didn’t have to be dressing like a nun and being a housewife. She seems to like what she’s doing.”

“Good. Do you miss her?”

“I do, especially when she can’t call or text where she is, but it’s okay. Beacon Hills is her home base, so I still see her enough.”

‘And Peter? How is he?”

“I couldn’t tell you. Last time I heard from him was about a year ago. He sent a postcard from Vegas. I’m just glad we separated our accounts so he couldn’t spend all of my money.”

“Huh. I never thought he’d be the Hale that ran away.” Derek smiles. It feels nice for someone to ask him about his family--for someone to remember things about his family. It’s not that Jen doesn’t care, but she and Laura have never gotten along and Cora is gone so often, they’ve barely had a chance to meet. 

They talk for awhile longer, catching up on everything they can think of. Derek tells Stiles about his cat, and how he saved it from a tree, which Stiles finds hilarious. He laughs even harder when Derek shows him a picture and tells him it’s name is Hercules. Stiles tells Derek that his old apartment building had a pool and that the one he’s in now has what he suspects is a meth lab in the alley behind the dumpster. He jokes, saying he may be in more danger here because he of the possibility of an explosion than he ever was while working in the FBI.

Stiles’s phone buzzes, drawing them out of their conversation. “Oh, shoot, I promised I would video chat Lydia today. I need to get home so I can connect to the wifi.”

Derek glances at his phone and realizes with a pit in his stomach that they’ve been talking for more than an hour and that Jennifer’s lunch break is well over by now. Stiles looks at him apologetically, as if he’s realizing the same thing. 

“Sorry for keeping you,” he tries to say, but Derek cuts him off. 

“No, it’s fine, I lost track of time. I’ll just… save her sandwich for later. She’ll be glad to have something to eat when she comes home.”

Stiles nods, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, I should get going.”

“Yeah, me too,” Derek says. He and Stiles walk out of the restaurant and part ways once they get outside. Derek feels like hitting himself for getting so lost in the conversation with Stiles. This kind of thing used to happen all of the time with Stiles, but it shouldn’t anymore--not with anyone but Jennifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed an itty bitty thing in the last chapter that will turn into a big thing in the future. i doubt my writing is memorable enough for it to make a difference, but stiles's past with the fbi is a little bit darker than it seems.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles gets a call from Collins one night while having dinner with Scott, Kira, and Lydia. Lydia flew out to Beacon Hills once she learned Stiles had been injured and moved back. He had put off telling her because he knew she would give him hell for not being more careful, but she found out over video chat when she saw the mark on Stiles’s forehead. 

At first, none of his friends want to let him leave the table to take the call, but he explains who it is and they relent. Sometimes he wishes they didn’t parent him so much, but if that was the case, they wouldn’t be the friends Stiles has loved for so long. 

“Hello?”

“Stiles, hey,” Collins says, voice deeper than he remembers. 

“What’s going on?”

“The captain has been trying to get ahold of you, Stiles.”

“I know. I’ve been ignoring him. Do you know what he wants?”

“I might,” the other man says. “They’re keeping things under wraps here, I don’t know much except for the fact that they found out the warehouse had surveillance cameras.” 

Stiles frowns. “Okay? I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“Well apparently, it’s looking like your shot wasn’t as black and white as everyone wanted it to be.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is that once you got ahold of his gun, the guy had no leverage. They’re thinking you could have shot him somewhere else, or tackled and cuffed him. He was disarmed.”

“He would have killed me,” Stiles argues.

“I know that, Stiles. Believe me, I do. I mean, you did all this because I was defenseless. Trust me, I’m not the one putting blame on you. I just thought you might like to hear it from me before you hear it from them.” Stiles groans, loudly, barely remembering that his friends are in the next room. 

Collins was a great partner. He was a lot older than Stiles, someone to show him the ropes and it helped that he had seniority around a lot of the other guys, so when Collins was behind him, no one opposed Stiles. He’s probably the only person Stiles misses. Which is why Stiles risked his life so that his partner wouldn’t get shot. 

“So what should I do?” 

“Come up with a story, maybe. And in the meantime, enjoy being back home. Don’t come back until they force you to, and make sure you’ve got a lawyer on your team.”

“God, we’re lucky you had already passed out at that point,” Stiles says, and it’s true. Collins passed out, hitting his head on the concrete floor when he fell to the ground. If he had been awake when Stiles shot the guy, he would have been questioned and Stiles would be a lot more anxious that their stories would be inconsistent. “Well, thanks for calling, man. I owe you one.”

“One, like an in with that cute redhead you’re friends with?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You’re a little old for her. And it’s strawberry blonde.” Collins laughs, says his goodbye, and hangs up the phone. Stiles runs his hand down his face. 

He wants to forget about everything that happened that night. He wants to pretend he was in a car crash and that’s how his injuries came about and that all that time he spent working for the FBI hadn’t happened. He should have just been on their research or data team. 

It takes him a few minutes to gather himself, and when he does, he finally returns to Scott and Kira’s dining room. His friends stare at him expectantly, but he’s content to let them stare for the time being. This isn’t something he can talk to them about. 

\---

The night is warm and Derek isn’t generally one to complain, but he can’t help feeling irritated by every little thing. He enjoys spending time with his friends but sometimes it’s too much socializing and too many people and he just needs a break. But he’s not leaving here alone tonight. 

They’re at Erica and Boyd’s for dinner and drinks like they do every so often. Only, dinner just ended, so they’ve moved to the patio to sit around chatting like proper adults. 

Isaac is here, quietly adding to the conversation when it’s permitted. Kali and Ennis are also here, which is why Derek is struggling to enjoy himself. It’s not that he doesn’t like either of them, but if he catches Ennis’s hand on Jennifer’s knee one more time, he won’t be responsible for whatever it is he does to that man. 

Jennifer, Kali, and Ennis were best friends in college. They live in the next town over now, and join Derek, Jen, and their friends every so often to catch up. Ennis has always been a little hands on with everyone he meets, so the fact that he grazes his hand against Jennifer on occasion isn’t worrisome in itself. What’s worrisome is how she leans into it, and how Ennis takes this as permission to flirt. A lot. Right in front of Derek. 

Derek isn’t a jealous guy. Sure, he’s protective and possibly even possessive at times but not in the “you have to hang out with me and only me” way. Just in the “don’t hang around people who fantasize about banging you if you can help it” way. 

“Der, you seem distracted,” Erica says, drawing Derek from his fantasy of putting a fist in Ennis’s face. He’s not typically a violent person, but this guy makes it a hell of a lot harder to be the peaceful, calm man he tries to be. 

“What? No. I’m fine.” Erica looks at him like she doesn’t quite believe him, but she doesn’t say anything else. Hell, she can probably guess what it is that’s making him upset; Erica is his best friend, after all. 

He finally snaps when Ennis whispers something into Jennifer’s ear, causing her to giggle and swat at his hand. “I think we should head home,” Derek says, standing up and startling everyone else at the table. 

“What? Why?” Jennifer asks. 

“I have an early shift tomorrow. Can’t make any life threatening mistakes because I’m tired.”

“You’ve barely even had any of your beer,” Jennifer says. If she had been paying any attention to him, she would know that the half-empty beer on the table was his second, and he’s had plenty to drink. But she’s been too caught up in flirting with her old friend. 

“I’ve had enough.”

“Why don’t you head home, get your beauty sleep. I’ll drop Jen off when she’s ready to leave,” Ennis offers. Derek glares at him. 

Jen, picking up on her boyfriend’s mood, stands up from her chair. “Thanks for the offer, but it would be easier if I left now. I’ll see you all later.” Derek waits as she hug Kali and Ennis goodbye before grabbing her hand and leading her to the front yard and toward the car parked on the curb. 

“What was that all about?” Jen questions as they climb into the car. 

“I told you. I don’t want to be tired at work tomorrow.”

“Derek, it looked like you were fuming.” 

“I’m fine,” Derek lies. Jennifer sighs but lets the topic drop. 

The ride home is quiet and Derek hopes they can just go inside and go to bed, but when Jen walks in the house and turns to him with her arms crossed, he knows it’s not likely.

“What’s been going on with you lately?”

“With me? You’re the one who doesn’t even say goodbye when you leave for work in the morning. You don’t say goodnight. You go out with your friends most nights instead of having dinner with me. You’re either asleep by the time I come home from work or not even in the house. And don’t even get me started on Ennis.”

Jen looks exasperated, like she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Ennis? What about him?”

“Oh, come on, Jen, don’t pretend you don’t notice. He flirts, and touches you, and I don’t like the way he stares at you when you aren’t looking.”

“Der, he’s one of my best friends. I’m sorry that I’m closer to him than I am to Isaac or Boyd.”

“Or me.”

“What, you think he’s trying to steal me away? Don’t be ridiculous.” Jennifer rolls her eyes and walks toward Derek, grabbing his hands in hers. “You’re my boyfriend. We’ve been together for more than than two years. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“I don’t have any reason not to be worried about him,” Derek says. He tries to back away from Jen, but she just pulls him closer and slings are arms around his neck. 

“I love you,” she says, kissing him in between each word. Derek sighs and leans his forehead on hers. He gives in and kisses her back, telling her the same. “You know something?” she whispers. 

“What?”

“You’re pretty sexy when you’re jealous.”

Derek tries to roll his eyes but he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips when Jen starts pulling him upstairs toward their bedroom.

\--

Stiles looks down at himself and feels out of place. He hasn’t dressed this nicely since he was going to trials and hearings back in DC. He’s wearing a damn suit jacket--this is weird. However, as uncomfortable as may be, but there’s no way he could oppose Lydia’s dress code. Not to mention, he doesn’t want to be the only one out of their friends that is underdressed tonight.

Stiles walks into the restaurant hesitantly. The place is nicer than anything one would expect in Beacon Hills. It’s the first 5-star anything to breach the county lines. Stiles hasn’t been here yet since the building was only built within the last three years, but from the looks of it, he wouldn’t have come here before he moved away even if it had existed. 

As he passes tables on his way to the back of the restaurant where Lydia has a table reserved, he notices that everyone is dressed like him and he’s glad for the first time that he’s not wearing a plaid button up. 

Lydia is already seated when Stiles approaches, as well as Jackson and Malia. Liam and Theo are supposed to arrive soon, which Stiles isn’t looking forward to, and Scott and Kira are on their way. 

When she sees Stiles, Malia jumps up from her chair and gives him one of her signature bear-hugs. She doesn’t even stop when Stiles reminds her that he may not have a sling anymore, but his shoulder is still damaged. 

“Malia, people are staring,” Lydia says, but there’s fondness in her voice. Stiles grins and sits down. He greets Jackson awkwardly, not entirely sure when it’s suitable to tease the guy again.

Jackson answers that question for him when he says, “Oh look, you do own shirts that aren’t graphic-tees made for prepubescent boys.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes and comes up with a witty remark, but he’s glad to see Jackson hasn’t changed. 

After they’ve eaten, and after Stiles has had more than enough to drink, he gets up and tells everyone he needs to go to the bathroom. It takes him a few minutes to find the bathroom, but when he does, it’s like a treasure. These fancy restaurants sure have nice places for people to do their business--this one in particular has a loveseat. 

When Stiles finishes up, rather than take a rest on the loveseat, he decides to head back to his friends. Unfortunately, his rather drunk mind and wobbly legs get him lost on his way back to the table. Stiles is about to turn around and try another route when he spots someone familiar standing in a quiet corner by a potted plant. 

It’s Derek, and it looks like he’s talking to himself, pacing back and forth nervously. He’s holding something in his hand and when Stiles squints, he can see the it’s a small, velvet black box. Dread pools in Stiles’s stomach as he realizes what Derek is about to do.

He looks ridiculously handsome dressed in his nice clothes, even from a distance. For a moment, Stiles considers going up to Derek and telling him not to do it, that asking Jennifer to marry him would be a mistake. But he doesn’t. He just stares until Derek catches him and looks up like a deer caught in the headlights. Stiles forces a smile onto his face--an unconvincing smile, he’s sure, but a smile nonetheless. He nods at Derek and turns away before he can see a reaction from the other man. 

Shit. 

Stiles trudges back to his friends, suddenly feeling much more sober than he’d like to be. 

“Hey, I think I’m going to head out,” Stiles says. His friends all look up from their laughter and conversation with a collective look of confusion. 

“Are you sure? We were just about to order dessert.”

“Yeah, I’m a little tired. I’ll walk home.” Stiles pulls his wallet out of his pocket and lays a couple twenty-dollar bills on the table to cover his food and the tip. He doesn’t give his friends another look, really wishing he could just be in his bed right now. 

The air is cooler when he gets outside since the sun has set and is no longer around to keep them warm. He imagines that if he were out on the preserve, it would be a perfect night to look at the stars. 

“Stiles?”

“Go back inside, Scott, I’m--”

“Dude, come on, I’m your best friend. I’m not leaving you out here to walk home on your own.”

“You’re not coming with me.”

“Yes I am,” Scott says. “Kira will pick me up later. C’mon.” Stiles groans but doesn’t argue any more. He starts walking in the direction of his apartment, silently hoping for Scott to stop walking with him and turn around. He doesn't.

“So what happened?”

“Nothing happened, Scott. I told you. I’m tired.”

“You weren’t tired before you went to the bathroom.”

“Yes I was.”

“No you weren’t.”

“And how would you know that?” 

“Like I said, Stiles, I’m your best friend.”

It takes everything he has not to growl at Scott for being exactly who he is. “I saw Derek, is all.”

“Yeah? And?”

“I think--well, no, I know he’s going to propose. To Jennifer. He was standing in a corner, rehearsing what he was going to say, fiddling with the ring box in his hand.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“But Stiles, you’ve told me… I mean, over and over again, you’ve said you’ve moved on.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I lied!” It’s not like Stiles to yell, but he’s buzzed and upset and doesn’t know how else to act right now. “Sorry for yelling. It’s just that I thought I was over him. Until I moved back here and saw him with Jennifer and realized that maybe that’s not true.”

Scott is quiet for a while, and Stiles doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t speak up again until they’re walking up the stairs to Stiles’s apartment. “You wanna drink get drunk and play video games?” Scott asks. 

“What about Kira?”

“I’ll text her and explain. She won’t mind. Her parents have Charlie tonight, anyways, so she can have some time to herself.”

“Okay, fine,” Stiles says, letting Scott through the door to his place. 

\---  
Stiles doesn’t see Derek for a week and he’s totally completely okay with that. He doesn’t even think about him too much. At least, he tries not to. Well, that’s not entirely true, he just makes himself so incredibly busy that he literally doesn’t have any opportunity to think about him or the gut-wrenching feeling in Stiles’s stomach when he saw Derek with the ring. 

The first time he has a break where he isn’t working, sleeping, eating, or vigorously cleaning his apartment to keep him busy, Stiles realizes he desperately needs to get groceries. And as he’s recently been cleared to drive, he hops into his car and enjoys the easy drive to the store--not like the drive was when Stiles lived on the east coast. 

He enjoys the ride so much, Stiles thinks he should get his jeep out of dad’s garage and take it for a spin. It’s been years since Roscoe has experienced the proper attention. 

When Stiles gets to the store, he has an actual list of things he needs to by. A list. The day Stiles started making lists is the day he regretfully accepted adulthood. He pushes a cart down the aisles, not letting himself grab anything that isn’t on the list. 

It’s a Sunday and a lot of parents are doing their weekly or biweekly grocery shopping after church. The store is almost packed, but there aren’t too many people who try to stop Stiles for a conversation so he gets his shopping done relatively quickly. 

Just as Stiles is picking out his last item, deciding which brand of cereal is healthier but still tasty, when a pit of dread forms in his stomach as he sees Jennifer approaching. Stiles hasn’t seen her since that day he was getting lunch with Erica and Boyd, and it’s more painful being reminded of how beautiful and graceful she is. Something Stiles is definitely not.

“Stiles, right?” she says, standing next to him and scanning the shelves. Stiles nods. “You’re looking better.”

“I’m feeling better,” he says, looking at the ground. When he glances back up, he can’t help it--he looks at Jennifer’s left hand to see the ginormous diamond Derek is sure to have gotten for her. Except he doesn’t see a diamond. He doesn’t see a ring at all, on either hand. 

Stiles is about to ask, about to let the words slip from his mouth, when Derek approaches, seemingly out of nowhere. Stiles looks at him and frowns. If they’re still shopping together, that means they’re still a couple. Maybe she’s not wearing the ring because she was allergic to the material used to make the band. Maybe it was too big and kept slipping off her finger. Maybe they decided to wait on an engagement, but stay together anyway. Maybe--

“Oh, Der, I need to go get the salad dressing I was telling you about.”

“Do you want me to go grab it for you?”

“No, you’d get the wrong one. Just pick out your cereal and meet me by checkout when you’re done, alright?”

Stiles waits, still staring at the boxes of cereal. He pretends to be comparing two different brands of wheaties. He’s under no impression that Derek can’t tell how uncomfortable Stiles is. 

Derek stands too close to Stiles for the younger man’s liking. He grabs a box of cereal and turns, ready to walk away, when he pauses. Stiles wishes he would just walk away. 

“I didn’t ask her,” Derek says, not bothering to raise his eyes to meet Stiles’s. The man then walks away without so much as a glance behind him. Stiles puts his possible cereal choices back onto the shelves and groans, loudly. Loud enough that an elderly woman standing a few feet away looks at him with concern and then scurries away.

Stiles brings his hands up to his head and tugs on his hair. “What the hell?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes. be as harsh as my 8th grade english teacher who made me rewrite every paper because he didn't like them.
> 
> im not proud of this chapter because i feel like i just rushed through it and it's not as good as it could be. i am content with the things that happened, but not the writing :\
> 
> thanks for the comments, guys. they're what keep me going. 
> 
> also, i want to recommend a song I'm really enjoying right now: All The Pretty Girls by fun. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AIoaiTwLk6I It has nothing to do with this story at all but I just listened to it while I was editing and I want you all to love it too.


	5. Chapter 5

“-- he just fucking walked away, like hasn’t been the reason for the consecutive heart attacks I’ve had since I came back. Can you believe him? Can you believe her? God, how is it even--”

“Stiles--”

“I mean, we broke up, dad, so long ago. I went through all that pain and heartache and now it’s just all flooding back again but this time it’s confusing! At least last time I knew what was going on.”

“Son--”

“I need to go out. I need to go to The Jungle and get my mind off of everything. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. Haven’t been there since they renovated, and I’m sure the queens will be glad to see me again.”

“Stiles, come on, you have other things to worry about,” the Sheriff says, catching Stiles off guard. 

“Like what?”

“Like what you’re going to say when you almost certainly have to go back to DC for investigation.” Stiles looks at his dad and shakes his head. He’s not dealing with this right now. 

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“You have to, kid. This isn’t going to just go away.”

“I know that, dad, I’m not stupid.”

“I know you aren’t stupid, Stiles, which is why I can’t understand why you aren’t doing everything in your power to prepare for this.”

“Because I killed a guy, dad! I killed a man who had a family, a man who had hobbies and interests and yeah, he was a bad guy, but I took away any fucking chance he had for redemption! I’m a killer, and I’m just as bad as any criminal I’ve ever I’ve ever arrested, okay? I’m not talking about this.”

Stiles storms out of his father’s house, slamming the door behind him, but it doesn’t take long before the tears in his eyes prevent him from seeing straight. He knows he can’t drive like this, not without getting himself in an accident, so he drops down onto the porch stairs and puts his hands over his face. 

It seems like forever that he sits there, sobbing into his hands, before his dad comes out and sits down next to his son. He pulls Stiles against his side and holds onto him as the boy cries. Stiles couldn’t care less that he’s making a scene for the neighbors. 

“It was stupid to hope I could go my entire career without--”

“Shh, I know, Stiles.”

Stiles hiccups and wipes his eyes. His head is starting to throb, like it always does when one cries like he is. “I can’t stand to live with myself, knowing what I did.”

“You did what I had to do.”

“Apparently not. They’re saying it was excessive. That I could have done something different.”

“It doesn’t matter what they said, Stiles. It matters what you know. If it was the only way to protect yourself, then it was the only way to protect yourself. It isn’t your fault.”

“I could have done something else. I could have--”

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t waste your time thinking like that. You did what you had to do, and you know what? I believe that one-hundred percent.”

Stiles sighs, his breath hitching as the tears begin to cease. He wipes his eyes and looks out at the sky. He can’t see the stars but the moon is bright and it’s all he needs to remind himself that he’s no longer in that big city. “I should have known what would happen. Scott’s dad is a dick. All FBI agents are dicks. I should have known I’d become one of them.”

“Hey, you are not one of them. You’re a good person, Stiles. The best I know. Your friends know it too.”

“Oh, God, what if they find out? Scott’ll never look at me again. Shit, they won’t even let me around my goddaughter anymore, will they? This is so fucked up.” Stiles puts his head back in his hands. 

“Stiles. Hey, Stiles, look at me.” Stiles raises his head reluctantly and faces his father. “They’ve known what the job might entail. They knew how dangerous it could be, kid. Right now, they’re just happy to have you home and alive. I’m not going to say they won’t see you differently if you tell them, but they won’t stop loving you, Stiles. They won’t stop trusting you.”

“How did your friends react? When you were dealing with this for the first time?”

“Well, kid, most of my friends were in the service with me or, once I was discharged, in the force. It wasn’t the same.”

“Did you feel as shitty as I do right now?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Does it go away? This… This guilt? Am I always going to feel like it should have been me?”

“No, Stiles, you won’t. It won’t go away, but you’ll find a way to deal with it. You’ll make up for it, with all the good you do. You’ll be able to say his name some day.”

\---

Derek is at home reading when Jen stumbles through the door. She’s at least a little tipsy and Derek gets a whiff alcohol and cigarettes. He’s never seen her smoke before in his life. She doesn’t even take notice of him sitting on the couch in the living room as she moves toward the stairs, shoving her heels off of her feet as she goes. It’s weird because the woman is generally meticulous about keeping the house looking pristine and the shoes seem odd and out of place.

“I thought you were just getting dinner with your colleagues,” Derek says, setting his book down and getting up so he can talk to his girlfriend. Jen looks completely taken aback by Derek’s voice. Her eyes widen and lips part in a way Derek used to find alluring when it was on Stiles. But Jennifer is so poised and proper and this caught-off-guard look makes him feel sick. 

“I was,” she says. “We all had wine.”

“You don’t get drunk off a couple glasses of wine, Jen.”

“I’m not drunk,” she slurs. Derek just deepens his frown and crosses his arms. 

“Yes you are.”

“Why are you acting like you’re my dad, Derek?”

“Where were you?”

“I need to go to bed.”

“Then I’ll come with you. You can tell me how much fun you and your coworkers had.” Her hair is sweaty and matted and if Derek couldn’t tell something was wrong already, the half-way unzipped dress confirms it. The woman rolls her eyes and starts trudging up the stairs, gripping too tightly to the railing so she doesn’t fall. Derek follows her close behind, mostly because he doesn’t want her to break her head open. 

“Quit following me, Derek.”

“We share the bedroom.”

“Not tonight.” Before Derek can protest, Jen is in their room and locking the door behind her, leaving Derek wondering what the hell he did that made her mad. 

\---

When Derek wakes up, neck sore from his position on the couch, it’s to Jennifer turning the lights on. He sits up, surprised that she’s awake so early on a Saturday. He figured she’d have a worse hangover. 

“We should talk,” Jen says. 

“Now? I just woke up.” Derek doesn’t want to admit to himself that he knows whatever it is she wants to talk about is going to end up with one of them leaving this house. 

“Yes, Derek, now.”

He groans and sits up, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I don’t even get any coffee first?”

“Derek.”

“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Last night.” Derek plays stupid and looks at her as if he doesn’t know she’s going to confess something. “I wasn’t with my coworkers. I was with Ennis.” 

Derek snorts. It’s not like he’s surprised.

Jennifer looks at him, like she’s hurt, but continues talking. “I’ve been getting together with him a lot lately.” That actually does surprise Derek. He hadn’t assumed this had happened before. 

“He’s your friend,” Derek says, playing devil’s advocate. “You don’t need to lie to me when you go see your friend.”

“Derek.”

“Stop just saying my name like that!” He says, voice raised but not yelling. “Just tell me what it is you have to say!”

The way Jen looks at him really pisses Derek off. Like he’s hurting her feelings. “We’ve kissed a few times but it never went far. Until last night.”

“And?"

“We didn’t have sex. But it’s further than it's ever gone.”

“Why are you coming clean about this? You’ve been cheating, why tell me?”

“Because I think we need a break.”

Derek snorts. “A break? So you can date him freely and figure out which one of us you like more?”

“No, Derek, to sort out my priorities.”

“And what priorities are those?”

“I want to be sure this is what I want.”

“Yeah? And how long is this supposed to last? I’m just supposed to wait for you?”

“It won’t be forever, Der.”

“Fine.”

“You should get ready for work. I’ll be gone tonight when you get back.” With that, Jennifer walks out the front door and Derek is left staring at it after it closes, wondering what the hell just happened--and why he doesn’t feel surprised. 

And why he let her go. 

Derek wants this to work out. He wants a family and a future and he can have that with Jennifer, but only if she lets him. 

He should feel angry, and he knows that, but right now, all he can feel is desperation. Desperation at the fact that she’s leaving and desperation because he knows in the back of his mind the only reason he didn’t tell her that they should just break up is because she’s his only chance at the future he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this short and depressing chapter my friends... My spring break is over which means I don't know how much time I'll have to update, but I'll do my best to be good about this!!!
> 
> I hope you guys don't hate me for this crappy chapter. I know it's short but I really wanna get something out there just in case I can't update for a while. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading guys! Your comments on the last few chapters have made me so happy you have no idea :)


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles finds himself in the hospital in the middle of the night once again after getting knocked in the head with a glass bottle in an attempt to break up a bar fight. It’s one of the first times he’s been in a physical fight while being off duty. On of, but not the first. The other time was in middle school durin the brief period where Scott had another best friend and Stiles hated the guy.

He’s sitting on the exam table in one of the ER rooms with an ice pack to his head, Scott snickering in the chair beside him. 

“I should have known this wouldn’t end well,” Stiles grumbles. “You never want to go to bars anymore, you’re all board games and bedtime stories. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you had to get involved.”

“I’m an officer of the law, Scott. It’s my duty to protect!”

“Well if you keep getting yourself into these situations, you won’t be alive to protect anymore.” Stiles glares at his so-called best friend and leans his back against the wall. His head hurts, sure, and maybe there’s blood matting his hair down, but this seems unnecessary. But Scott was insistent on taking him to the ER just to be sure. 

“This visit is going to cost me money, Scott.”

“Yeah, money that you have to spare. Besides, you have great insurance. I doubt you’ll have to pay more than a penny.”

“Not likely.”

“Do you think the guys who were fighting will get in trouble?”

“Maybe. Bar fighting can get you arrested but it’s rare people get charged with anything if nobody is injured. Plus, they ran away, and I doubt anyone called the cops on them.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel like doing anything about it. In fact, I’d really like to just be in my bed right now, sleeping it off.”

“Stiles, if you slipped into a coma because you didn’t get medical treatment, I would feel at least partially responsible and I don’t want that on my conscience.” Stiles flips Scott off and closes his eyes. 

Moments later, the door opens then and, because Stiles is the least-lucky person in the world, Derek Hale strolls in, looking exceptionally broody yet attractive in his scrubs. Stiles sits up straight and when he realizes he doesn’t have any energy to stay like that, he slumps back against the wall. 

Derek wipes his hands with the hand sanitizer next to the door. He stares at Stiles for a moment too long before turning to the tool tray that was already in the room. “Hi, Scott,” Derek says, nodding at the man sitting by Stiles. 

“Hey,” Scott says. 

“So what happened?”

“Some guy used my head to-uh, break a beer bottle.”

“You got in a bar fight?”

“No! I was trying to stop a bar fight, and it ended poorly.” Derek gives Stiles an ‘are you stupid’ look and walks closer to Stiles until he’s directly in front of him. Stiles holds his breath out of fear that Derek will get grossed out by the smell of alcohol. 

“Where were you hit?” Stiles points to the back of his head and turns as Derek guides his shoulders to see. “Jesus, Stiles. How could you make someone mad enough that they hit you this hard?” Scott snorts and Stiles glares at him. 

“Like I said, it was an accident. Can you just tell me I’m fine so I can go home?”

“I don’t know if you’re fine. I’ve got to check for a concussion.”

Stiles groans but submits to all of Derek’s tests. He does his best to perform like he thinks he’s supposed to and when Derek puts his little flashlight down, he’s sure he’s in the clear, until Derek says, “You’re going to need a CT scan.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you definitely have a concussion and I want to make sure there’s no internal bleeding. Or glass lodged inside your skull.”

“Come on, Derek, I’m fine. Look at me. Just let me leave.”

“Wikipedia says that one of the symptoms of a concussion is irritability.” Stiles turns his head and shoots Scott, who is staring down at his phone, a look. The traitor. 

“If you leave here and die from a stroke, that’s on me. I could lose my job.” Derek looks completely stoic as he speaks, but Stiles catches the glint of a smirk buried deep within his frown. 

“Dude--”

“Don’t call me dude. We’re having a slow night, we’ll get you in for a CT scan right away and if all is well, you can go.”

Stiles groans, loudly, obnoxiously, and closes his eyes. “Fine.”

“Good.”

“Scott, go home.”

“But I drove you here, Stiles. I’m not letting you walk.”

“I’ll take him,” Derek says. Stiles blinks at him. “You’re my last patient, and Scott has a wife and kid to go home to.”

“You have a girlfriend,” Stiles reminds Derek. 

“Go home, Scott. I’ll wait for Stiles to finish his test and I’ll drop him off at his apartment,” Derek insists, ignoring Stiles’s input. 

Scott nods and stands. He shakes Derek’s hand and hugs Stiles goodbye, as if he really is going to die, and then leaves. Stiles swings his legs back and forth, uncomfortable now that he’s alone with Derek. The dark-haired man types on a computer, and when Stiles asks, he tells him he’s scheduling him for the CT scan. After a few minutes, Derek turns the computer off. “I’ll go get a wheelchair and take you to the test. 

Stiles doesn’t wipe the frown from his face. He’s still grumpy when Derek pushes him in said fucking wheelchair down the halls of the hospital as if he’s an invalid. He feels useless and angry that he’ll probably be forced to take off work for a few days. 

It’s almost another hour before Stiles is able to leave, no internal bleeding, and he’s exhausted. Derek is sitting in the waiting room when Stiles is done filling out paperwork. The man looks bored out of his mind and Stiles would feel guilty if Derek hadn’t been the one to insist on taking Stiles home. 

“Everything good?” he asks when he sees Stiles. 

“Mhm.”

“Okay, great, let’s go.” 

Derek leads Stiles into the parking garage next to the hospital, hand resting on Stiles’s back to keep him sturdy. It’s a kind gesture, sure, but Stiles wishes Derek wouldn’t touch him. “Put this behind your head,” Derek says, reaching into the backseat of the camaro and grabbing a sweatshirt before Stiles can climb into th car. “I don’t want the blood on the back of your head to rub off on my seat.” Stiles rolls his eyes and wonders what Derek would do to him if he didn’t listen and rubbed his bloody head all over the seat. He decides not to chance it and follows the man’s orders. 

“Do you remember how to get to my apartment?” Stiles asks once they’re both in the car as Derek is pulling out of his assigned parking space. 

“Yeah, it’s in the gross part of town, right?”

“Hey, it was the only place I could find where the landlord would rent me something right away.”

“How fast did you buy it?”

“It took a couple of hours to do all of the business.”

“A couple of hours? Hate to break it to you, but that’s probably not entirely legal.”

Stiles waves his hand in dismissal. The rest of the drive is quiet, except for the sounds of Stiles bouncing his leg and shifting in his seat. Derek doesn’t seem to mind--he’s all too familiar with Stiles’s habits by now. 

Derek parks in front of the apartment building and takes his key out of the ignition. “I’ll walk you up.”

“I don’t think you need to do that, Derek.”

“I don’t care what you think, Stiles, I don’t want you falling down the stairs and cracking your already concussed skull open.”

“Um, wow, morbid much? And I’ll live. I’m taking the elevator.”

“Stiles.”

“Fine. But you’re going to experience all the exotic smells this place produces in the middle of the night.” Without another word. Stiles opens the door and hops out of the vehicle. Derek follows suit and locks the doors behind him. 

Stiles snorts. “You think locking the doors is going to stop these people from getting inside? You’ve got a lot to learn, buddy.” Derek grimaces and, for a moment, looks to be considering letting Stiles walk on his own. But he shakes his head and walks away from his car anyways. 

As Stiles unlocks his door and steps inside, it occurs to him that this may look suspicious to anyone who sees. Stiles and Derek, who used to date, entering Stiles’s home in the middle of the night. Especially since Stiles is sort of hobbling on his feet like he’s drunk, but it’s only because he’s dizzy. And Derek is committed to a woman, which is common knowledge amongst the townspeople. 

Derek doesn’t seem to notice. In fact, he follows Stiles into his apartment. “Uh, Derek, I think I’ll be okay from here.”

“Are you showering?”

“I mean, I guess, yeah.”

“Then I’ll stay until you’re done. Just in case you slip and fall or something.”

“God, what is with you thinking I’m going to accidentally kill myself?”

“Because Stiles, I know you. Now go on, get cleaned up. You smell gross.”

Derek sits down on Stiles’s couch and props his legs on the coffee table. Stiles scoffs. “Make yourself comfortable,” he mutters under his breath as he walks in the direction of his bathroom. 

Derek does leave after Stiles showers like he said he would, and Stiles can’t help but wonder why it is he was so adamant about making sure he was okay. But then Stiles starts overthinking and decides it really doesn’t matter because all he wants right now is to sleep. 

\---

Stiles wakes up early enough in the morning to call in sick to work. Unfortunately, it’s his dad that he has to report to. 

“You got in a what?”

“A bar fight. Well, actually, I wasn’t in the fight. I was trying to do my civic duty and break it up before anyone got seriously injured, and thus, a beer bottle was introduced to the back of my head.”

“Kid, I hate to say it, but I honestly don’t know how you’re still alive.” Stiles frowns even though his dad can’t see him. 

“At least the two guys ran in opposite directions after I was hit. It means they didn’t go after each other any more.”

“Whatever you say, Stiles.”

There’s a firm knock on the door and Stiles rakes his mind for anyone that might want to visit him without texting first. Other than Scott, who’s performing emergency surgery on a dog that swallowed an entire sock whole, according to his Snapchat story, Stiles can’t think of anyone. 

“Hey dad, I gotta go.”

“Yeah, well, you rest up, you hear me? Don’t overdo it.”

“You got it, old man.”

Stiles walks over to his door and swings it open. He’s surprised to see Derek, carrying two reusable grocery bags filled to the brim with a variety of foods. “Uh, Derek?”

“Hey, can I come in? These are heavy.” Confused, Stiles moves out of the way and closes the door behind Derek as the man makes his way inside. He sets the bags on Stiles’s kitchen table.

“Not that I’m not thrilled you showed up unannounced with bags full of food, but why, exactly?”

At this, Derek actually blushes. Full on red cheeks, awkward laugh, scratch of the back of the head blishesZ I may have looked through your cabinets while you were in the shower last night and saw that you still eat like a college student. You have more Ramen than anything else combined. Anyway, since you’re under orders to relax and take it easy, I’m going to make you breakfast.”

And yeah, Stiles can’t really say no to that, which is how he finds himself sitting on the countertop beside the stove in old flannel pajama pants and a batman t-shirt filled with holes while his ex-boyfriend cracks eggs into a skillet right next to him. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Stiles says. Derek nods his head and hums. 

It’s weird acting so domestic when Derek and Stiles only recently became sort of friends after the heated history they share. Especially because Derek looks so damn comfortable moving around the kitchen that it makes Stiles’s heart ache for something he doesn’t have anymore. 

Which leads him to thinking, it’s Saturday. Shouldn’t Derek be hanging out with Jennifer?

“So, how come you’re here and not with your girlfriend? Doesn’t she have off work?”

Derek pauses, avoids looking at Stiles. “Doesn’t matter,” he says. “Do you want cheese in your eggs?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait pals. this chapter kind of sucks and i'm sorry but the few creative juices i have are tampered out thanks to all of my classes. 
> 
> UPDATE: I literally missed every question on a test the other day, and my GPA dropped to like negative five million. Anyways. I also haven't proofread or edited this a whole lot, so sorry about that. It's almost the weekend and I'm hoping to get some better work done!!! 
> 
> And I've said this before, but I literally cherish all of your comments. I'm thinking about printing off screenshots and framing them. Love all of you xx


	7. Chapter 7

Derek doesn’t know why he felt so compelled to take Stiles home, or to come back today and cook him breakfast. He also doesn’t know why he’s still here, sitting in Stiles’s living room, watching Family Guy. Especially because he hates the show.

“You know there’s scientific evidence that shows like these kill your brain cells?”

“Oh, please, you’re making that up just ‘cause you don’t like it.”

“It’s true that I don’t like it, but I’m not making it up.”

“Whatever you say, sourwolf.”

Derek smiles at that. It’s been a while since Stiles has called him sourwolf, and while he still doesn’t know where the name came from, it’s refreshing to hear. But it makes Derek feel more lost. “Don’t call me that.” Stiles looks at him and sees that he’s smiling, so he reaches over to shove Derek in the shoulder. “You shouldn’t be watching TV at all, actually.”

“Come on, Der. This ain’t my first rodeo when it comes to concussions. I always watch TV.”

“Do you remember when you were a junior in High School and you got a concussion playing lacrosse?”

“Which time?”

“That time you hit yourself in the head with your stick.”

“Oh. That was embarrassing. It was the first game you went to, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, and I felt incredibly awkward. I was sitting with your dad, who knew you were hopelessly in love with me--”

“Excuse me, it was mutual, even if you didn’t admit it out loud until after I graduated.”

Derek smiles. “That was a good summer, wasn’t it.”

“Yeah. It felt like it was never going to end, and then one day, poof. It was over.” Derek looks down at his fingers. They’d only officially been together for one summer. It was such a small amount of time in the grand scheme of things but the amount of emotion and passion that went into their short-lived relationship makes it seem like a lifetime. And the heartbreak Derek never fully recovered from--a lifetime. 

He hadn’t wanted to hold Stiles back, so he had told him to go. And he felt so empty after Stiles left. They’d become friends when Stiles was a sophomore in high school. The sheriff had been injured on the job, and Derek was interning at the hospital. He had been shadowing Melissa, who was taking care of the sheriff, who was worried that his son was going to starve to death because he hadn’t moved from his bedside in days. So Derek took him to the cafeteria and forced him to eat and found the kid’s manners absolutely repulsive but the boy was something special. 

That’s when Derek discovered that the purpose of being a nurse isn’t just making sure people are healthy physically. It’s making sure they’re comfortable. Happy. And not just the patients, but family and friends too. 

And after that, they hung out often. Sometimes with other friends, sometimes just the two of them. Derek could feel himself falling in love around the time Stiles started his senior year, and Stiles and Lydia had tried the dating thing and failed. Stiles started flirting with Derek and Derek pretended to not be receptive but really, on the inside, he was giddy whenever Stiles made him blush.

But it ended. It was just so good, it had to end. That summer, Stiles had stayed with Derek in his loft most days. And nights. Sometimes, when the sky was clear, they’d go out to the preserve and sit on the  
decaying steps of the Hale mansion’s porch, looking at the stars. And Derek would tell Stiles about the house he wanted it to become, the house he wanted to build for him. He even started construction--hired a crew and everything. 

They both knew Stiles was leaving that August, but what did that matter when they were in love?

It still ended. And it hurt like hell. But Derek met Jennifer and he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. And now that light is dimming and it’s hurting again. 

Derek stands up, shaking himself out of his thoughts. “Okay, no more TV,” he says, shutting it off with the remote. “You have any board games?”

“Board games?” Stiles asks, incredulous. “Do I look twelve?” Derek gives him a look and Stiles sighs. “Yeah, okay, they’re in my bedroom closet on the shelf.”

Derek tries not to let his eyes wander around Stiles’s room. There’s a picture taped on the wall next to his dresser, though, that makes him smile. It’s one of the two of them and Stiles’s other friends on their graduation day. But other than that, Derek grabs a stack of board games from Stiles’s closet and leaves the room. 

When he goes back to the living room, Stiles is texting someone. “Off your phone, Stiles. The screen isn’t good for you.” Stiles rolls his eyes but he sets his phone down anyways. 

“How’s the back of your head?”

“Feels kinda raw when I touch it but there’s no glass stuck in my scalp, so hey, that’s good.” Derek smiles softly. 

Just as he’s setting up Monopoly on Stiles’s living room coffee table, there’s a knock on the door. Stiles makes a move to get up, but Derek points at him and tells him to sit, like he’s a dog. Funnily enough, Stiles listens. 

Derek swings the door open and is surprised to see Lydia Martin, who looks equally surprised to see him. “Derek,” she says. “What are you doing here?”

“He’s being a fucking buzzkill, that’s what,” Stiles yells from the couch. Derek rolls his eyes but can’t help but laugh along with Lydia. 

“Can I come in?”

Derek moves to the side and lets her walk past him. “What the hell, Stiles. I had to hear from Kira who heard from Scott that you got in a fight?”

“It wasn’t a fight. Well it was, but it wasn’t mine. I was trying to break it up.” Derek imagines Stiles is tired of explaining this. 

“You and your sacrificial ways,” Lydia says. “Anyways, I just stopped by to make sure you were okay. But it seems you’ve got a nurse of your own, so, I’ll be going.”

“You can stay,” Derek says. “We were going to play monopoly. It’s more fun with three people than two.”

Lydia looks to Stiles who nods vigorously--a bit too much for Derek’s liking, considering his brain has already been jostled to the point of injury--and says that she’ll stay as long as they let her be the dog. 

They spend a good few hours playing monopoly. Stiles runs out of money, sells all of his properties, gets them all back, and ends up winning the game. He doesn’t take the cocky smirk off of his face the entire time they put the game away. 

“Lunch?” Lydia asks. 

“Sorry, Derek used up all the food in my kitchen.”

“You mean I used up all the food I bought myself to make you breakfast? And I’ll text Erica and ask her to bring something.”

“Would she do that?” 

“Of course, she loves me,” Derek says. Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek texts Erica to bring sandwiches and tells her their orders. 

When she gets to Stiles’s apartment around thirty minutes later, Derek finds himself having a good time. The banter between her and Stiles is funny to watch, and so is the way she and Lydia discuss his travesty of an apartment. Stiles tries to argue a few times, but winds up just getting shut down. 

He stayed until mid afternoon when the sheriff arrives. Derek feels weird as he leaves Stiles’s apartment, but not in a bad way. Just in way he can’t really explain. He knows he has fun with his friends all of the time. He always enjoys their company. But for some reason, it feels like spending the day with Stiles was the first time he’s had fun in a long time. 

\---

The following few days are boring. Stiles’s friends visit him but Derek doesn’t come back. He’s not allowed to work, which sucks because it’s the best distraction these days. On the the day before he’s allowed to go back to work, Stiles does something that’s maybe a little stupid but he definitely thinks it’s called for: he adopts a puppy. He had walked down to the lobby to get his mail and there was this poster on the bulletin board. A man in the building had a dog and she had a litter of puppies and the landlord doesn’t allow more than one pet per apartment. 

Stiles is sure that his next door neighbor has at least three cats, but he can keep a secret. After looking at the ad, he shakes his head and goes back to his apartment. Except, he can’t get the idea of a dog out of his mind. And so eventually, Stiles finds himself wandering back to the lobby and calling the number posted on the paper. The guy tells him his apartment number and even when Stiles is knocking on his door, he tells himself he just wants to look. Maybe pet one or two. 

But then he sees them--there are four out of six of the dogs left and wow. Stiles had never known how cute Australian Shepherd puppies are until right now. 

“Oh, God,” he says, crouching down and picking one of them up. “These things are cute as hell.”

“Aren’t they?” The man who’s getting rid of the dogs is named Pete and he’s actually middle aged. For some reason, Stiles thought he was younger, maybe a drug dealer. He just assumes everyone in this building is a burn out. “I’d keep ‘em all, if I could.”

“It’s too bad you can’t.” Stiles sits on the floor with the puppy in his lap. “So what’s the mom’s name?”

“Molly.”

“Cute. And the dad?”

“Who knows? Molly gets around.” Stiles lets out a low whistle and Pete laughs. “So what are you thinking?”

“What am I thinking about what?”

“About taking one of these little guys home?”

Stiles sighs. He looks at the pup in his lap, and the dog looks back at him. “He’s looking at me like my friend looks at me when he wants something,” Stiles says, thinking of Scott. 

“I think he likes you.”

“Shit,” Stiles says. “I like him too.”

Stiles ends up getting the dog. Pete isn’t even asking for money, though Stiles would have been more than willing to pay thousands for this dog. He’s impulsive. Everyone knows that. He also tells Pete that he can come over and visit any time he wants, and that he can bring Molly too. It’s kind of an open adoption thing they have going on. 

Stiles carries the dog back to his apartment and as soon as he sets him down, he pees on the floor. He’s definitely in over his head, but this will be good for him. He knows it. Stiles turns around to grab some paper towels so he can wipe up th pee and when he turns back, he sees the little guy munching on a table leg. Yeah, he’s going to need help. 

Stiles pulls his phone out and dials Scott’s number. “Hey buddy, what’s up?”

“Scott, hey. Listen, I need your help.”

“Shit.”

“It’s nothing bad, I swear.”

“What is it, then?”

“Well, I sort of got a dog.”

“You what?” 

“Yeah, a little Australian Shepherd. Some guy in my building had a litter up for adoption, and… Was this a bad idea?” 

Scott sighs on the other line. “No, Stiles. I think it’s a great idea. I’m just happy you didn’t take them all home.”

“I wanted to.” Scott laughs. “Anyways, I have literally no stuff for dogs in my house and I’m still not allowed to drive and you’re a vet, you can help me out, so do you think you could drive me to the pet store and help me pick some things like food and toys and leashes out? And maybe give me a crash course in dog ownership?”

Scott laughs. “Sure, Stiles. I’ll pick you up in twenty. And I’ll bring a leash and collar so we can bring the dog.” Stiles hadn’t even thought of that. “Hey, what are you naming it?”

“Achilles,” Stiles says. He doesn’t even know where that came from, but when he says it, it sounds right. “Get it? Like the demigod. Oh! And then I can say ‘Achilles, heel,’ and it’ll be hilarious.”

“I love it. Okay, I’m gonna get ready and then I’ll come pick you up.”

“Thanks, Scott.”

When Stiles hangs up the phone, he stares at his dog, Achilles, and remembers that Derek named his cat Hercules. Another demigod. Demidog. Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay so i'm quite satisfied with this chapter. my mental health is deteriorating but finals are coming up and then i'll be done with classes until the fall and i literally cannot wait. 
> 
> so tell me what you guys think because your comments are tHE BEST THING ABOUT POSTING THIS. 
> 
> and it's work mentioning that i typed demidog instead of demigod more than once. hopefully i fixed it. 
> 
> xx


	8. Chapter 8

Achilles is a menace. He pees on everything, chews on everything, and barks whenever the attention isn’t on him. According to the sheriff, he’s exactly like Stiles was until he hit puberty. Stiles didn’t like that joke.

The dog is cute, yeah, but Stiles is a busy man. He has to work. He has to sleep. And he likes to close the door when he uses the bathroom, but this dog has something wildly against privacy. 

But whenever Stiles begins to regret his spur-of-the-moment adoption, Achilles will do something cute like snuggle up next to Stiles while he sits on the couch watching TV or run into wall because he still hasn’t mastered his motor skills and Stiles thinks, shit, there’s no turning back. He doesn't want to turn back. 

Scott is a big help. He basically tells Stiles everything he needs to know about pets, and, well, that’s a lot. Basically everything, actually. Stiles had had one pet as a kid, and that was his mother’s cat that lived only a few years longer than she had. After that, he and his dad hadn’t bothered.

Stiles really likes his dog. He likes him so much, in fact, that he starts bringing him everywhere the dog is allowed. That means he brings him to Sunday lunches at John and Melissa’s house. 

“If he does anything unsavory in here, you’re cleaning it up,” the sheriff says and stiles rolls his eyes, passing his dad and walking into the house, letting Achilles off his leash. 

Scott, Kira, and Charlie are already sitting in the living room when Stiles enters. Charlie squeals at the sight of the puppy and Scott sits with her on the ground so they can play. Stiles takes a seat next to Kira. 

“So how’s it feel being a father?” Kira asks. Stiles sighs and leans back into the cushions of the couch. 

“It’s exhausting. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat, I barely have time to shower.” He looks at Kira dramatically. “Does it ever get easier?”

“Well, Stiles, I wouldn’t know since I’m raising an actual human and you’re raising a dog. Different mediums. But I’m sure it will.” Stiles smiles.

It’s nice to sit down to a meal with his family. He missed out on the weekly lunch last week due to the concussion and the monopoly playing, so he makes up for it by doing the dishes for Melissa. She thanks him graciously. 

When Stiles is alone in the kitchen, his dad traipses in, pretending like he doesn’t have every intention of interrogating his son. “So,” the sheriff says nonchalantly, “how’ve you been?”

“You mean since we talked yesterday? I’ve been fine.”

“You planning a trip to DC any time soon?”

“No, I’m not,” Stiles says. He closes the silverware drawer with a little too much force. “I’ll go if I have to, but if I don’t, I’m content just pretending Federal Bureau of Investigation does not exist. It works as long as I’m not reminded of it every ten seconds.”

“Stiles, I don’t want to make things worse for you. But I also don’t like you ignoring your problems like this. If you don’t deal with it, you’re never going to recover.”

Stiles puts the hand towel down and looks at his dad. “There’s nothing to recover from, dad. My body is healed and as far as I’m concerned, I’m fine.” There’s a harshness in his tone that Stiles doesn’t intend for, but once it’s out there, he doesn’t take it back. In fact, he decides he’ll just leave. 

So that’s what he does. He hooks Achilles up to his leash and says goodbye to the McCalls before walking out of the door.

\---

Derek has been taking more night shifts lately and it’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the change in pace or appreciate the pay, but he feels a bit jet-lagged, despite the lack of a jet in his life. Still, he’s not one to complain--never has been--so when he’s feeling wide awake nearing the end of his shift, he’s not surprised. It’s early morning, which is when he’s used to waking up anyways. 

Once Derek clocks out and nods goodbye to his coworkers, he heads in the direction of the nearest exit, the one closest to the sidewalk he takes to get home. 

At this point, he shouldn’t even be surprised to see Stiles, given how often they’ve been running into each other lately--specifically in the hospital. 

“You look tired,” Derek says, sitting down next to Stiles, who is somehow managing to lie down in one of the uncomfortable chairs. 

“Exhausted,” Stiles says. He’s not in his work uniform and his partner, Allison, isn’t anywhere around, so he must not be working.

“What are you doing here?”

“That’s private police business,” he tells Derek. Then, sitting up, he says, “I was trying to do some extra research for one of our cases. You know how I am.” And Derek does know. 

“Find anything useful?”

“Nada.”

“Bummer. So what are you still doing here?”

“Resting my eyes. And waiting for someone I know to wake up so I can call them and ask for a ride back to my apartment. I’m definitely too tired to be driving.”

“My house is just a block away, if you want to wait there. I’ll make coffee,” Derek blurts. For a moment he regrets it, even considers taking it back, but he holds his tongue when Stiles perks up. 

“You don’t want to sleep?”

“My sleep schedule is all messed up right now, I couldn’t even if I was tired.”

“Alright, if you say so. It shouldn’t be too long a wait.”

“It’s okay. As long as you don’t mind walking.”

“You don’t drive to work?” Stiles asks, bewildered. 

“It would be impractical, Stiles.”

“But--what about the Camaro?”

“I drive plenty of other places. Come on, let’s get going.”

Stiles nods and grumbles about standing up until Derek grabs him and pulls him. Stiles snatches his hand away from Derek, perhaps too quickly, and blushes before turning around to pick up his phone and car keys that are sitting on the chair next to him. 

They walk to Derek’s house, mostly in silence, and it’s comfortable. The sun is just beginning to rise and there’s barely anyone out on the roads. It’s peaceful. And Stiles, who Derek remembers being more talkative than usual when tired, doesn’t say a thing. 

“This is it,” Derek says, unlocking his front door and letting Stiles in. He suddenly feels a little nervous, wishes he had cleaned up or at least washed the dishes that are piling up in the sink, but then he remembers that this is Stiles. He has no reason to try to impress him. 

“So I was promised coffee?”

Derek rolls his eyes but points Stiles in the direction of the kitchen. He follows close behind and quickly turns the coffee maker on. “I’m going to go change out of my scrubs. I’ll be right back.” With that, he turns around and walks toward the stairs that lead upstairs. 

Once in his room, Derek puts on a pair of sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. He pointedly avoids the dresser drawers that are now half empty, whereas they used to be full to the brim with his and Jennifer's clothes. That’s how he’s handling this “separation.” Avoiding thinking about it, avoiding looking at anything that could remind him of the situation.

Derek hasn’t talked to Jennifer in over a week, and he feels like he should be miserable, but in all honesty, it doesn’t feel all that different that when they were together. She had been distant for quite some time, and they rarely had meaningful conversations anymore, so this is kind of just a little bit less than he’s used to. 

Still, it hurts knowing that she isn’t sure if Derek is her first choice or not. It hurts not knowing if she’s going to pick him or Ennis. It hurts knowing that there’s a choice involved at all. 

Stiles is pouring himself a cup of coffee into one of Derek’s cups when he returns to the kitchen. The coffee couldn’t have been done brewing, but Stiles has never had a great deal of patience. The man in question just smirks when Derek looks at him. 

“It’s good,” Stiles says, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’ve always been pretty good at this. Never that weak shit. I always appreciated that.”

“Well I’m glad,” Derek says with a soft laugh. He pours himself a cup of the barely adequate amount of coffee in the pot and motions for Stiles to join him sitting at the island. He does. 

“Nice place,” Stiles says. 

“Thanks, but I haven’t had anything to do with the decorating.”

Stiles looks at him carefully and sets down his coffee. “Is Jennifer not here?” And Derek looks down. 

“No, uh, not right now.”

“Why not?”

“We’re taking a break, is all,” Derek says. He glances up at Stiles and sees that he wants to implore more, but Stiles says nothing. It’s odd, really, this new Stiles who doesn’t say everything on his mind. 

Stiles knocks his knee against Derek’s and smiles. “What would you do if I told you I adopted a dog and named him Achilles?”

Derek snorts. “I always pictured you as more of a reptile kind of guy.”

“And I thought you were allergic to the emotional connection of pets and their owners. I guess we were both wrong, huh?”

“Guess so,” Derek laughs. 

“Hey.”

“What.”

“Can I meet your cat?”

That brings a smile to Derek’s face. “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for not updating for so long, guys. school has been kicking me and i'm trying to prepare for a mission trip im taking in a couple of weeks (if praying is your kinda thing, maybe mention my group to the Big Guy), so i'm SUPER BUSY and super distracted. 
> 
> i have also been a little unmotivated, so sorry if this chapter sucks. i'm hoping it's helping me break through that wall of writer's block, ya know? 
> 
> anyways, i love you guys sm!!! please don't forget to comment, those things are the best :(


	9. Chapter 9

Derek is prone to pretending like everything is okay when it isn’t. Which is why he’s content with just ignoring things for now. Ignoring the fact that he sleeps alone in his bed. He picked up night shifts because if he works during the day, he goes home at night and wallows in self pity, embarrassing himself in front of his cat. 

It’s also when he starts thinking about Stiles, and their old relationship, and he starts worrying that he’s falling back into how things used to be with him. Stiles has a pull about him, one that Derek has always fallen victim to. Maybe it doesn’t affect anyone but Derek. Nevertheless, every time Derek sees Stiles, he ignores that funny feeling in his stomach. The feeling that might mean something more if he let it. 

Even as a teen, before his parents died and when he thought he was entitled to the world, Derek was never one to lock his door and play depressing music. He’s never been one to pay attention to his emotions. But there comes a time, he supposes, when he can’t just ignore these things. When everything piles up so much that he stops being angry, stops brooding and feeling like the world has always been out to get him, and he just gets sad. 

\---

Stiles knocks on Derek’s door early one afternoon after he bumped into Laura at the station. She mentioned in passing that Derek took a sick day but for some reason, Stiles couldn’t accept that. Derek Hale doesn't do sick days. 

So when Derek opens his front door, clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants, and tells Stiles it’s not that kind of sick day, Stiles doesn’t know what to do. He brought a care package for someone with a chest cold, not for someone who’s hurting. Still, Stiles brought over plenty of ingredients for what, if he remembers correctly, is Derek’s favorite soup and it might not do anything to help him feel better, but it’ll get him to eat. 

“You mind if I use your kitchen?” Stiles asks, and Derek sighs but he motions inside with his hand anyways and that’s a good enough invitation. Derek follows him into the kitchen and sits down at the counter where he and Stiles drank their coffee just a few mornings ago. “You wanna talk?” Stiles asks. Derek shakes his head and Stiles is okay with that. 

He feels weird, honestly, standing in Derek’s kitchen, making him food, when the reason Derek is so upset in the first place is because his girlfriend isn’t here. In fact, he feels a little guilty. But he ignores the feeling because if Jennifer isn’t here, then Derek is left to fend for himself with his feelings and Stiles knows that Derek, a perfectly mature and fully functioning adult, doesn’t do well when he’s sad. 

“Do you mind if I talk and you listen?”

“I know better than to try and keep you quiet, Stiles,” and there’s a hint of a smile on Derek’s face when he says it so Stiles feels like he really doesn’t mind. 

“Well do you remember when you and Laura came to my apartment a while ago? And someone from work--well, my old work--called me?” Derek nods and Stiles takes a breath. “It was the captain of my division. Apparently he’d been calling a lot. I talked to Collins, I’ve mentioned him before, right? Anyways, he told me that I need to go back to DC for trial. At this point I don’t know who’s being tried, because I know there’s some question about things that I did during the raid, but I haven’t been arrested, you know? I mean, if it was that serious, they’d arrest me.”

Stiles takes a break from talking and just stirs the ingredients of the soup into the pot. He’s turned away from Derek so he doesn’t know what the other man is doing--at this point, he doesn’t know if Derek is even listening anymore, but he doesn’t mind. 

“I don’t like talking to my dad about this. He’s too on my side. Doesn’t want to admit that I could have done something wrong.” Stiles keeps stirring, thoughts whirling through his brain without his control.

He turns the burner of the stove off and and rinses the wooden spoon he was using before putting it in Derek’s dishwasher. Then he turns around and leans against the sink so he can face Derek. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just listens to the sound of the birds outside and his own breathing. If he couldn’t see his chest moving, Stiles would be worried Derek wasn’t breathing. Stiles is weird that way. 

“Derek?” 

“Hmm?”

“I think you should rebuild your house.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, and as soon as Derek lifts his head like Stiles just said something idiotic, he regrets his words. He doesn’t even know where they came from. It’s not like he was thinking about the Hale house or anything even remotely close to it, but Stiles has a tendency to say things without any provocation.

“Listen, I know that right now, the most I am to you is probably a friend. Not even a good friend, just a friend that you have history with. But Derek, you were so damn invested in that house. I mean, I remember you lying awake with me at night, telling me about all of the designs you were considering, the colors you wanted each room painted, the furniture that would go great with the hardwood floors you wanted to put in.”

“Stiles--”

“You told me how you wanted Cora to have a home in Beacon hills. How you wanted to raise your kids in that house. Tell me if it’s not my place, but Derek, if it would make you happy, build that fucking house.”

Derek is a little too calm for a moment before he shoves himself out of his stool and disappears up the stairs. He comes down not a minute later with keys in his hand and grabs an umbrella from the hook next to the front door. Stiles hadn’t even noticed it was raining until now.

“Come on,” Derek says, jerking his head to the side as if he was motioning for Stiles to follow him. 

Stiles follows Derek through a few doors he’s never been through until they’re standing in a practical two-car garage filled with one car. Derek opens the garage door and then hops into the driver’s side of the Camaro. Stiles figures he’s supposed to go with Derek, so he hurries to the passenger side and climbs in, outrageously confused. 

They’re on the road for a least five minutes when Stiles realizes they’re heading out to the preserve. Derek looks peaceful behind the wheel, and Stiles wishes he wasn’t so afraid to ask what was going on in his head. The rain is hitting the windows hard, but Stiles trusts that Derek is entirely in control despite the weather. 

A few more minutes and Derek is pulling into the driveway in front of his old house. The place is a colossal mess and full of weeds, but Derek doesn’t seem the least bit deterred by that. 

Derek grabs the umbrella, which he had handed to Stiles for the drive, and gets out of the car. He puts the umbrella up once he’s out, but it’s raining so much that Stiles can still see water droplets running down his face. Derek hurries to Stiles’s door and opens it for him. 

“You getting out?” he asks. Stiles shrugs and as he climbs out of the car, Derek holds the umbrella over him so that he won’t get wet. “Let’s go,” Derek says, and Stiles follows him to the front porch. The stairs are concrete, so they’re still in tact as Derek and Stiles make their way up them. 

“I always used to sit on these steps on summer mornings, reading my books,” Derek says. Stiles smiles, but Derek isn’t looking at him. He’s already grabbing Stiles’s hand and pulling him through the front doorway. 

“Derek, what are we doing?” Stiles asks. Derek ignores him. 

“The floors were Walnut. When I was in middle school, a pipe burst in the kitchen and the floors were ruined by the water, so we had to replace them. Dad complained that Walnut was the most expensive, but my mom always said it was the most beautiful. Idt’s not like we didn’t have the money. But dad didn’t want to pay someone to install the floors, so he and uncle Peter decided they were going to do it themselves. I helped stain the wood so it shined.”

Derek puts the umbrella down. For the most part, the roof is gone, but the bottom floor of the house is mostly shielded from the rain by the second floor. 

“This was the living room,” Derek says, using the hand that is still holding Stiles’s to gesture around the room they’re standing in. “My mother liked vintage furniture. It was never comfortable. I’d like to have a leather couch in here. And a coffee table that people could play board games on during rainy days like today.”

Light shines through the falling shutters on the windows and Stiles thinks the rain has stopped. Derek doesn’t seem to notice. He pulls Stiles in another direction. They enter another room filled with shelves. “This was the library. Dad and I were the only ones that came in here, really. I liked to sit and read old history books while he graded papers. I’d rebuild the shelves with the same wood used for the floors. I don’t even care if Walnut is the most expensive. And then I’d fill the entire room with books.” He pauses. "I always thought the parts of the walls not covered by the shelves would look nice painted dark red. Really dark, almost brown."

Next they go to the kitchen and look out the window above the beaten sink. “Mom used to have a window box for her flowers. She made us water them every morning. I think she was trying to teach us to be responsible.”

Then he takes Stiles through a doorway in the kitchen that leads outside. The grass, though terribly overgrown, is bright green. Wildflowers and weeds alike weave around trees and patio furniture that was never disposed of. 

“We used to come out here all the time,” Derek says. “I mean, this is what I always wanted in a home. A big backyard. Something for kids to run around in, or a place to have barbecues in the summer.”

“It’s beautiful out here,” Stiles says. Derek looks at him as if he thinks he’s lying. “No, I’m serious. It’s so bright and just, you know, I can imagine the good times you must have had out here, Der.”

“I used to help my mom in her garden. Over there.” He points with his and Stiles’s hands though Stiles can’t tell there was a garden back here ever. 

“My mom gardened too,” Stiles says. "After she died and before Dad and I moved, we tried to keep it alive but I think we were much too sad to put in enough effort.”

“I tried to start a garden at my house in town, but the soil’s no good. Not like it was out here.”

“You miss it here.”

“Yeah.”

“So?”

“It’s my home.”

“You’re right.”

“And I hate not being here, not taking care of it.” Stiles looks at Derek. “I think… I want to start working on it again.”

“Yes!” Stiles cheers. He beams and stretches up to peck Derek’s lips, smile never leaving his face. 

Except then Stiles realizes what he just did, that he just kissed Derek, who’s eyes are wide as he stares at Stiles, and immediately backs away. “Shit,” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t... I didn't mean to-- I’m just happy for you, is all--”

Stiles turns, pulling his hand out of Derek’s and looking away. But then Derek grabs Stiles’s hand again, turning him back so that they’re even closer now than they were, and suddenly, they’re kissing again. Derek drops the umbrella and then cups his hands around Stiles’s cheeks. Stiles, unsure of what to do with his hands and fearing that he’ll somehow cause Derek to pull away,Stiles rests his hands on Derek’s hips. 

Their mouths move together for what feels like forever, and when they finally break away, breathless and flushed, Stiles decides that this is the one thing he’s not going to overthink. Because he knows better than to get his hopes up. 

They drive back to Derek’s in silence. Stiles’s follows Derek inside so that he can grab his keys. “Your soup is--uh--probably cold,” he says. Derek snorts, under his breath. 

“That’s okay.”

“Well I should probably head out. I’m having dinner with my dad and Melissa tonight. Kinda want to get washed up first.”

“Of course.” Derek looks down at his shoes, which are wet and covered in mud and soot. 

“Well… I’ll see you around, Derek.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hi
> 
> so sorry for being MIA lately, friends. not to make excuses, but i was on a mission trip where i had no access to internet for a lot of the past month, and other than that, the writer's block has been... well... it's been bad. 
> 
> hopefully this chapter is good enough to make up for it?
> 
> i have the rest of the story mapped out, it's just a matter of getting everything actually written, ya know?
> 
> thanks for reading, guys. comments and kudos are what keep me going <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> description of Stiles having an anxiety attack about half-way through the chapter

The shooting range has always been something of a solace to Stiles, so when Allison invites him to accompany her one night after work, he doesn’t say no. He has a lot on his mind and wouldn’t hate to clear his thoughts. 

Except for some reason, he’s a bit shakier than usual. Ever since Allison texted him last night to ask if he would join her, he’d been a little unsure. But he didn’t say no because before this, the shooting range has never been an issue. 

He and Allison are in partnering booths where they can see each other, so they decide to have a little bit of a competition. Stiles hasn’t really done much police-style bonding with Allison, mostly all he knows of her comes from when she and Scott were together, so this is nice. She’s a total badass, for one, and a worthy component.

“C’mon, Stilinski, you can do better than that!” Allison says when Stiles misses the bullseye on the target by half-an-inch. Stiles looks at her, at the evil glint in her eye, and smirks. 

So he starts shooting off the pistol, one round after another, each bullets going through or close to the bullseye with shocking accuracy. It’s not that he has bad aim, you can’t really when you’re a field agent with the FBI, but it’s been a while since he’s fired a gun. When it’s time to reload, Stiles lowers his arms and winks at Allison who takes it to be some sort of challenge. 

Next thing he knows, she’s hitting the bullseye straight on ever round she fires and Stiles is impressed. “Alright, Argent. I see what you’re getting at,” he says when she’s done. Stiles starts firing again, this time with even better precision. Definitely the best since he’s left the FBI. Since that last field op. Stiles is proud. 

Only, suddenly, that shaky feeling comes back. And he remembers the last time he shot a gun, and what the result was. And he starts to breathe a little faster and that tired feeling in his arms from holding the gun goes away and it’s like he’s not even looking at the target anymore. He’s just shooting, aimlessly, one bullet after another as fast as he can, not paying attention to where they’re going. He hears Allison yelling his name, but he doesn’t stop. 

Not until there’s finally nothing left to get out of his gun does he finally lower his arms. 

Whatever it is he’s looking at is blurry and Stiles starts feeling dizzy. His name is being called, over and over, but he can’t get himself to listen. The sides of his vision go dark and Stiles feels like he’s going to pass out, or fall over, but then he realizes he’s on the ground already. He doesn’t remember sitting, or falling, but here he is. 

He reaches his arm out in front of him and grabs onto Allison’s shoulder, though he didn’t even realize she was right there until now. “Stiles,” she says. He doesn’t answer, just blinks and tries to get rid of the blurriness in his eyes. “Stiles, can you hear me?” He nods. “Okay. Breathe with me, Stiles. In,” she tells him, holding her breath so Stiles will do the same. Right when he doesn’t think he can hold his breath any longer, Allison exhales. “And out,” she says. She does that over and over again for God knows how long until Stiles feels himself getting ahold of his own head and realizes that he’s having a panic attack. 

“I-- I--” he tries, but Allison shushes him. There are people from other booths that are looking at him with a sort of recognizable sympathy on their faces. Stiles wants to shy away into the wall he’s leaning against. 

“Hey, don’t, just come here,” she says, pulling him up. He’s a little wobbly on his feet, like he could fall over at any moment if Allison wasn’t there holding onto his elbow. “I called Scott,” she says. 

“What?” He doesn’t remember her making any phone calls. Then again, Stiles isn’t entirely sure what the hell just happened. 

“He’ll be here in a few minutes. Come on, I’ll go wait out front with you.”

Stiles nods and follows Allison to the front of the building. When they get outside, Scott is already waiting there, leaning up against his car. “Hey, buddy, are you okay?” Scott asks when he sees them. Stiles straightens up a little at the sound of his voice and nods, hoping he looks more sure than he feels. 

“I’ll go check us out,” Allison says. 

“Thanks for calling me,” Scott tells her. She nods once before walking back into the building and Stiles feels guilty for making Scott come pick him up and for Allison having to call him. God, he always makes everything about him. 

“Sorry, Scotty,” he says. Scott looks at Stiles with a frown. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, man.”

“You shouldn’t have had to come out here.”

“Yes I did,” Scott says, like it’s the simplest thing ever. “You were having a panic attack. And I’m your best friend.”

“Anxiety attack, actually,” Stiles corrects sheepishly. Scott gives him a look that’s a mix between annoyance and fondness. 

“Come on,” Scott says, motioning toward the car. Stiles sighs and climbs into the passenger seat. 

He knows Scott wants to ask but thankfully, he doesn’t. Stiles falls asleep on the drive back, even if it only takes a couple minutes until Scott is parked in front of Stiles’s apartment building. “See you later, then,” Stiles says. He quickly gets out of Scott’s car and shuts the door behind him, ready to let his bed swallow him up so he doesn’t have to think about what happened.

“I’m coming in,” Scott says as he quickly scrambles to get out of his car. 

“I--I just want to sleep, Scott,” Stiles says. 

“Cool with me. I’ll hang out on your couch.”

“Don’t you have to work?”

“I don’t work on Saturdays,” Scott reminds him. 

“What about Kira?”

“Stiles, we’ve been together for years. I’m pretty comfortable spending a few hours away from her now.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Stiles.”

“Okay, fine. Come on.”

Scott grins and locks the doors of his car before falling into step next to Stiles. 

\---

Derek startles when he hears the unmistakable rumble of Stiles’s car coming up the drive to Derek’s old house. “Is that Stiles?” Laura asks curiously, watching as the blue Jeep gets closer and closer until it’s parked in the too-long grass just in front of them. 

“It is,” Derek says skeptically. Based on how things went down the last time he was out here with Stiles, whatever the other man has to say can’t be good, can it? 

Derek’s not even sure what happened entirely. He knows that Stiles kissed him, and that he kissed Stiles, and that they parted ways uncomfortable, but he doesn’t know why. At least, he doesn’t know why he kissed Stiles. 

He and Jennifer are on a break, not broken up. Derek should feel a lot more guilty than he does. 

“Hey,” Stiles says when he hops out of the Jeep. 

“Stiles? What are you doing here?”

“Just came to see how things were going,” Stiles says, and there’s something a little off about him. It’s not something big, really it’s only visible in his eyes and how they keep darting around, like he’s scoping out his surroundings. 

“How’d you know I’d be here?”

Stiles looks at him blankly. “I don’t know, I just hoped, I guess. And I texted Erica to ask if she knew where you were.”

Derek blinks. “Well, we’re pretty much just talking about what we want to happen,” he tells Stiles. “And cleaning. I need to mow the lawn before I can really get going, since there’s a lot that’ll need to be outside before we get working. And I want to see what all I can do before I can hire contractors.”

“I think he should just hire people and forget about this until it’s done,” Laura says. Derek rolls his eyes.

“We both know that’s not how Derek works,” Stiles says with a smirk. Laura laughs, throwing her head back. 

Stiles looks a little sheepish for a beat, and then he goes back to his jeep and pulls a bag out of the passenger seat. “So I didn’t know if you guys were planning on working for the whole day but from the looks of things, you are,” he says, nodding at the little camp Derek and Laura have set up with a cooler containing water bottles and two chairs to sit on. 

Honestly, it’s been a long Sunday, and it’s only noon. Derek is sweaty and he’d be embarrassed about it if Laura didn’t look the same. So far, they’ve been sorting through all of the junk outside in the grass. Derek has had more interactions with garden snakes today than ever before. 

“Anyways, I brought lunch.” 

“What?”

“Sandwiches,” Stiles says. “I know you Hales are all work, no play, so I wanted to be sure nobody was passing out from starvation. Erica told me that you two were getting started right away, so…”

“You really didn’t have to do this, Stiles,” Laura says, but she’s already reaching her hand into the bag Stiles has in his arms and pulling out a sandwich. “How’d you know our orders?” 

“Also Erica. She said she wasn’t so sure, though, so I hope everything is okay.”

Derek just stares because, what? Stiles brought them sandwiches?

“Derek?” Stiles says, shoving the bag in his direction. 

“Oh. Thanks, Stiles.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, handing Derek the bag. Derek sees that there are also chips inside. “I have to go, but if you guys need any help with this stuff this coming week, I’d be happy to join you. Just let me know.”

With that, Stiles is getting back into his Jeep and driving away and Laura is giving Derek a very pointed look. 

The one he knows means “you could have chosen him, and you didn’t, and I’ll never forgive you,”

Derek just sighs and bites into his sandwich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry to make you guys the collateral damage of my writer's block. y'all deserve better. 
> 
> only about a week and a half more until i am officially a home-body for the rest of the summer! no more mission trips or vacations or camping trips to limit my internet usage!
> 
> that doesn't mean i'll be better at updating, because i suck a writing recently, but at least i'll be less busy
> 
> your comments keep me going, guys. love y'all !!!


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